


champion of the heart

by gabstar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Also plot, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, BoKuro friendship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, More on that later but yeah angst, Oikawa is basically Malfoy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Triwizard Tournament, and a stupid amount of bokuaka because i'm weak, bokuroaka friendship, but with the redemption arc malfoy deserves, friendships, it's basically the Goblet of Fire but with Haikyuus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-19 01:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5950729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabstar/pseuds/gabstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Triwizard Tournament comes to Hogwarts just in time for Bokuto Koutarou to enter it, and it seems like it was meant to be. But things are never that simple at Hogwarts. And they're especially never that simple for Bokuto Koutarou. </p><p>((Bokuto is the Champion Hogwarts deserves. And eventually proves to be the one it needs too))</p><p>Edit: Chapters 4 & 5 posted at the same time!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a leap of faith

**Author's Note:**

> ((it should also be noted that since Hogwarts is a British school, I'm going to give them more British mannerisms and they aren't going to use honorifics either but they're still Japanese))
> 
> also shout out to cleo who is beautiful and amazing and literally all of this is her fault so ahhh thank you i love you cleo<3

“I think I’m gonna do it.”

It’s a Saturday morning. Hardly anyone’s in the Great Hall, as is the norm for weekend breakfasts. Kuroo’s squinting through his _Daily Prophet_ with heavy bags under his eyes and Akaashi’s sleepily chewing on a piece of toast. Between them and Bokuto, they make up about a third of the Ravenclaw table’s inhabitants.

“Mm do what?” Kuroo offers, voice deep with fatigue.

“The Tournament,” Bokuto clarifies. “I’m going to enter.”

Akaashi chokes on his toast. Kuroo lurches and jostles the whole table, splashing tea and toppling a tower of bacon nearby.

“Bad idea,” Akaashi says.

“Terrible,” Kuroo agrees.

Bokuto pouts. “What? Think I can’t do it?”

“That’s not it,” Akaashi says. He flicks his wand, untipping tea-cups and restacking bacon neatly.

“Of _course_ that’s not it,” Kuroo adds.

Bokuto’s expression softens into a confused frown. “Then what?”

“It’s dangerous,” Akaashi presses. “Really dangerous.”

“People die in this thing, mate,” Kuroo says. “And look at your competition.”

He gestures behind him to the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables, where most of the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons congregated. They must be more timely at their other schools, because compared to the Hogwarts students, the visiting students seem positively lively. Two silver-haired Beauxbaton students are bickering loudly over what qualifies as nutritious-- half in Russian and half in accented English.

Bokuto feels a pang of insecurity.

“I could take ‘em,” he mumbles. “And we do dangerous stuff all the time.”

Kuroo fidgets, and Bokuto knows he must be thinking of late nights exploring the Forbidden Forest because Akaashi heard rumors of unicorns. Sneaking into the restricted section of the library for spells on magical tattoos and how to make them move. And, of course, their animaguses. Bokuto makes a face; he can still taste the mandrake.

Akaashi, however, remains unfazed.

“That’s different,” he says. “In the tournament you’d be alone.”   

Bokuto sighs and slumps, laying his head on the table. Kuroo and Akaashi exchange meaningful looks.

“Cheer up, buddy!” Kuroo says brightly. He claps Bokuto on the back. “We’ll do something dangerous together. Right, Akaashi?”

Akaashi nods serenely. “We haven’t flooded the Slytherin common room in a while. That always cheers you up.”

There’s a brief image of soaked-to-the-bone Oikawa, Kageyama, and Hinata in Bokuto’s mind's’ eye and he suppresses a smile.

“Yeah okay,” he sighs like pranking his favorite rivals is a chore. “That sounds fine.”

Seemingly satisfied, Kuroo returns to reading the news. Akaashi’s gaze, however, remains on Bokuto.

“What would you want to enter the Tournament for anyway?” Akaashi asks softly.

Bokuto shrugs. “It was just a thought.”

Thought probably wasn’t the right word. It was more a feeling. A desire. A tug toward the silvery blue goblet like a calling. He keeps seeing the same scene replaying in his head-- him clutching the Triwizard Cup, enchanted confetti falling all around him, Kuroo yelling, Akaashi with teary eyes, Akaashi throwing his arms around him, leaning in and--

Bokuto stops the fantasy there. He stings with embarrassment and looks away from Akaashi like his piercing gaze might read Bokuto’s thoughts.

“The prize money would be fantastic though,” Kuroo muses idly. “We could all take that trip to France finally. On you, of course.”

Bokuto snorts. “Yeah. The eternal glory sounds pretty nice too.”

“Headmaster Nekomata _does_ love a good reason to give out plaques,” Akaashi adds.

They fall into uncomfortable silence. Kuroo hums thoughtfully.

“But you’re a sixth year,” he says. “You have to be a seventh year to enter.”

“You have to be seventeen to enter,” Bokuto corrects. “I turned seventeen last month, remember?”

“Huh,” Kuroo says. “Interesting.”

“I know.” Bokuto perks up. “It’s almost like it was _meant_ to happen, y’know?”

Akaashi frowns as if he doesn’t like the way this conversation is going. “It’s still deadly.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, his mouth twists uncomfortably. “That’s true. But--”

“But what? You think he should risk his life for a vacation and a cliff note in _Hogwarts, A History?_ ” Akaashi asks, sounding irritated.

Kuroo sighs. “Okay, okay fine. Still deadly or whatever.”

It’s quiet again. The air between the three of them prickles. Bokuto looks to the Goblet again and it cackles at him warmly. Invitingly.

Bokuto stands up. The skid of his seat reverberates throughout the hall.

“I’m doing it,” he says. “I’m entering. Either of you have a quill?”

“Hey, mate, maybe--” Kuroo begins.

“Koutarou, I really don’t think--” Akaashi starts.

“No, I’m entering,” Bokuto says with finality. “If I don’t I’ll always wonder about it. Quill?”

Kuroo digs through his pockets, only to pull out a few Knuts and a handful of lint. Akaashi’s brows pinch with concern.

“Are you sure you’re thinking this through, Koutarou?” Akaashi asks. “It’s a big commitment.”

Bokuto places his hands on his hips. “I have to try.”  

The changes in Akaashi’s expressions are small, near indiscernible to the untrained eye. But years and years of Bokuto looking at that face know that the furrow in Akaashi’s brow is _worried_ , the softness in his gaze is hesitant, an unspoken _are you sure ?_

Bokuto nods, answering. “Trust me on this, Keiji.”

Akaashi sighs and reaches for his pocket, pulling out his quill and tearing out a scrap of paper from a notebook he keeps handy. Bokuto tingles with excitement as he scrawls down his own name.

He jogs toward the Goblet and people are clapping behind him. He hears his name being called and cheered on. (Kuroo, of course, being the loudest.)

He hesitates when he crosses the Age Line. Everything is tainted blue in light of the Goblet and suddenly it’s all very real. Headmaster Nekomata reciting the rules, restrictions-- the words _deadly_ , _dangerous_ , _daring_ floating through his mind. All eyes are on him when Bokuto turns around, but the only one’s he cares about are on the Ravenclaw table.

Kuroo grins at him, shooting him two thumbs up.

Bokuto turns to Akaashi, who nods. A tiny smile on his lips.

Bokuto beams and lets his name be consumed by flame.

 

 

* * *

 

  


All the next week Hogwarts is filled with whispers about the upcoming Tournament. Bokuto can’t walk from one class to another without hearing rumors, speculation. Third-year Yahaba Shigeru swears he heard that they were bringing in the Weird Sisters and Celina Warbeck to play between the Goblet of Fire’s choosings. Inuoka Sou heard there would be a firework show and a whole week of bonfires after every challenge. It's all anyone can be heard talking about, between classes, in bathrooms, tucked in cozy domitories-- Even Kuroo gets caught up in it.

“Okay but if you actually _do_ get to fight a dragon for this Triwizard nonsense I quit,” Kuroo says as they make their way to dinner. Bokuto’s got one arm slung over him and the other over Akaashi. “I can’t live in a world where Bokuto Koutarou is cooler than me.”

Bokuto laughs as he aims a kick at Kuroo. Akaashi grips Bokuto’s wrist to keep them all steady. “What? I’m already cooler than you!”

Kuroo giggles and shoves him back. “As if!”

Bokuto sticks out his tongue at him, then turns to Akaashi. “Keiji! Which one of us is cooler? Me? Or Tetsu?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes eyes and smirks. “ _I’m_ the cool one.”

Kuroo and Bokuto snigger at that, and Akaashi aims kicks at both of them. They turn into the Entrance Hall grinning until suddenly the corridor is filled with cheering and screaming.

“What the--”

They untangle themselves and run toward the noise. The Great Hall is on its feet, clapping wildly and hats thrown in the air. Oikawa Tooru stands by the Goblet of Fire, bowing and blowing kisses as his fellow Slytherins run up to congratulate him.

Bokuto scowls. “ _Oikawa_.”

“That prick,” Kuroo curses. “Of course he’d want to do it with a full audience.”

Bokuto inwardly feels a pang of jealousy. If he had waited he could have gotten a full Hogwarts congratulations too.

Akaashi’s expression is the foulest. He tugs on Bokuto’s robes. “Let’s get out of here.”

Bokuto nods even if his stomach is tight with hunger. They can always just visit the House Elves later, he reasons. They turn and start to head back up to the Ravenclaw Tower when--

“Yoohoo!”

Bokuto feels Akaashi fist a hand in his robes as they turn to face him. Oikawa’s standing in the Great Hall door way, smiling widely. His disgruntled Gryffindor Iwaizumi Hajime by his side.

“What? Not going to congratulate me?” Oikawa asks. He opens his arms like he’s awaiting for his praise to come.

“Congrats,” Kuroo says flatly. “Can we go?”

Oikawa pouts, clutching a hand over his chest. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “So mean, Kuroo! I think I’m going to make a fantastic school champion, if I do say so myself.”

Bokuto wrinkles his nose at that and Oikawa’s gaze shoots toward him.

“What?” he says. “Think you could do better, Bokuto?”

Bokuto stands up straight, puffing out his chest. “Yeah! I do actually!”

Oikawa laughs loudly, mocking. Iwaizumi punches him in the gut and hisses, “ _Stop that."_

There are students mulling around the Great Hall entranceway now, coming to see the commotion. Hinata Shouyou bounces particularly high, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s going on until Sugawara Koushi holds him still. 

“I’m sorry, Iwa! I’m sorry,” Oikawa says, wiping back a tear from his eye. “It’s just so hilarious. Bokuto Koutarou, our school’s champion?”

All gazes turn to Bokuto and he heats with embarrassment. His hands itch for his wand-- but Akaashi’s hand has moved to grip his wrist.

“Don’t listen to him,” Akaashi hisses. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Bokuto’s jaw twitches, but he nods.

“Just because you entered doesn’t mean you’ll win, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi adds flatly. “Bokuto has just as much a chance as you.”

Oikawa’s eyes flash with something like irritation, jealousy. He folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, so you’d rather him be our champion, is that it?”

Iwaizumi scowls. “Dumbass, that’s not what I said--”

“You hear that everyone?” Oikawa says, turning to the mulling students. “Bokuto Koutarou! The Dumbest Ravenclaw Hogwarts has ever seen-- School Champion!”

Bokuto’s punched with a sick, burning feeling. He tosses off Akaashi’s hold to grab his wand, but Kuroo already has his raised.

“You take that back, Oikawa!” Kuroo snarls.

“Tetsurou don’t!” Akaashi snaps, grabbing his elbow. Kuroo tries to shake him off. “He’s not worth it!”

Oikawa reaches for his wand too and Iwaizumi grips the front of his robes.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Iwaizumi hisses.

Oikawa struggles with him, but still shoots Akaashi a dirty look.

“Great friends you have there, cousin,” Oikawa says at him. “Tell me, which is your favorite for champion? The mop-headed halfblood? Or the Muggleborn with gillyweed for brains?”

Bokuto’s hands are shaking in effort not pounce and strangle Oikawa muggle-style. But before he or anyone else can respond, Iwaizumi yanks Oikawa backward.

“ _Leave it_ , Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says. “It doesn’t matter what any of you think. The Goblet decides who’s worthy to enter the Tournament.”

Oikawa makes a face, but seeing Iwaizumi’s expression seems to soften him, if only a little. He smiles at Iwaizumi.

“Ah, my Iwa is right,” he says finally, backing off with hands raised in surrender. “The Goblet knows who’s most worthy.”

Oikawa sends the three of them a smirk. “May the best wizard win.”

He turns on his heel and returns to dinner. The crowd dissipates now that the excitement is over. Akaashi sighs in relief.

“I’m going to jinx that stupid grin off his face,” Kuroo mutters darkly.

Akaashi smacks the back of Kuroo’s head. “You can’t let my cousin get to you like that. That’s what he wants.”

Kuroo flinches at the blow. “I’m not going to just sit there and let him parade around insulting people because he’s some rich, pure-blooded prick who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“You’re going to get yourself expelled,” Akaashi says, though his ears are pink. “And then he’ll have the last laugh. Is that what you want?”

“Better than doing nothing!” Kuroo snaps. “Right Kou-- Kou?”

Bokuto’s slipped off down the hall. His hands are shoved in his pocket with shoulders slumped. He can still hear Oikawa’s words ringing in his ears. _The Dumbest Ravenclaw Hogwarts has ever seen_ \-- _gillyweed for brains_. It isn’t even an exaggeration, Bokuto thinks. He feels hollow.

“Koutarou!”

“Kou!”

Bokuto breaks into a jog, and as soon as he’s rounded the corner and out of sight, he let’s himself go light. His bone marrow fizzles away, fingers fan out into feathers, his body becomes narrowed, focused and powerful. He takes flight and escapes through an open window.

 

* * *

 

  
  


Even before he became an animagus, Bokuto sought comfort in the Owlery.

He remembers being eleven and in awe of the drafty tower. It was cold, soft with the sounds of rustling nests and feathers, and filled with the eerie feeling of being watched. But Bokuto felt somehow safe, assured. It was the first time in his life he didn’t feel out of place.

This is where he goes now. Still boiling with anger and embarrassment, he flutters inside. He double checks the Owlery’s empty before landing on the pellet-strewn floor and retaking his human form.

He sighs, burying his head in his hands.

The school owls recognize him immediately. The rest must be out on deliveries, but three swoop down and clamp on his shoulders, one on his arm. They hoot and squawk, one nips his ear letting him know they’re ready to be fed.

He gives a wry smile as they inspect him. “What? Did you miss me?”

One tugs on his tie impatiently and Bokuto tuts.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “Come off, let me move.”

He guides them over to the stairwell and sits. He pulls a can from his pocket-- _Eeylops Owl Emporium Quik Snacks._  For owls of course. Bokuto tosses a pellet in the air and _snap_ it becomes a mouse in an owl’s sharp talons.

“Careful, Toshi,” Bokuto warns as the owl guzzles down its meal. “You always get too excited and retch it all up.”

He tosses another and-- _snap_ \-- it’s a rabbit in another owl’s beak.

“That’s unusual for you, Tia,” Bokuto comments. He pets her glossy head before she goes to eat her meal. “Usually you like fish, don’t you?”

A third owl and a third snap. And it’s fish, surprisingly.

“Oh that’s right. Tiggles is the one who get’s fish,” Bokuto remembers, and Tiggles squawks at him reprimandingly. “Sorry about that, I guess I'm not the brightest.”

Bokuto sighs at his own words as he puts the cannister away. He remembers being eleven and shocked he was placed in the supposed “smart” house. He had never been academically gifted or particularly witty or-- or anything that seemed to fit Ravenclaw. He had spent nights his first year curled up in banisters because he was too embarrassed to ask for help answering the riddle to seek entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower.

 _There’s more to Ravenclaw than knowledge_ , the Sorting Hat had said. _There’s intuition,_ _creativity, inventiveness. You’d do well there._

Tiggles nips Bokuto’s fingers lightly and he presses a kiss to the top of Tiggles’ head.

“You think I’m a good Ravenclaw, right Tiggles?” Bokuto asks. “And I’d make a great champion too, right?”

Tiggles rubs his beak to Bokuto’s hands and Bokuto obliges by stroking him until he coos happily. Bokuto warms. At least he has this.

There’s a soft landing on Bokuto’s shoulder, a quiet hoot. The fourth owl is all too familiar, but Bokuto flinches at the intrusion. The school owls flutter off and Bokuto feels a dull pang of disappointment as they leave.

Bokuto hugs his knees to his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it, Keiji.”

Akaashi hoots again. He nuzzles his soft face into Bokuto’s neck and it tickles. Bokuto squirms away from him.

“That’s not going to work,” Bokuto warns, even has he suppresses a grin. Akaashi nips at his jaw gently. “Keiji!”

Akaashi keeps rubbing his face on him until Bokuto’s leaned back against the wall and giggling. Bokuto pushes him away.

“You’re so stubborn,” Bokuto accuses, but he’s smiling.

Akaashi squawks indignantly and Bokuto laughs.

“Sorry about running off,” he says. He strokes Akaashi’s feathers absentmindedly.

Akaashi makes a low cooing noise, and rubs his beak to Bokuto’s nose as forgiveness. Bokuto laughs.

“Ticklish! You’re still ticklish!” he says.  

Akaashi blinks slowly. His feathers melt away, body elongates, and his beautiful owl form is replaced with his usual still-beautiful human form. Bokuto swallows and looks away.

“Tetsurou’s looking for you in the kitchens,” Akaashi says. “But I knew you’d be here.”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything to that. He watches Tia and Tiggles glide around the higher levels of the Owlry. Toshi is curled up in his nest, beak tucked to his chest and dozing.

“Where’s Tarou?” Akaashi asks. “He’s usually here, isn’t he?”

Bokuto nods. “He must be hunting.”

“That’s a shame. Tarou is my favorite.”

Akaashi shivers and folds his arms across his chest. It’s always an adjustment going from an owl with warm, protective feathers to human, with only thin robes. Bokuto shuffles closer to him and Akaashi leans gratefully into his warmth.

“Keiji?”

“Mm?”  

“Do you think I’d be a good champion?”

“Yes,” Akaashi says, without a beat of hesitation.

Bokuto’s whole body alights with the affirmation. “Really?”

“Yes,” Akaashi repeats. He turns to look at Bokuto, something fierce and determined in his eye. “Of course.”

“I mean, we don’t know what the tasks will be,” Bokuto says. “And the other schools look pretty strong I--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Akaashi cuts him off. “You can do it.”

Bokuto quivers. He’s breathless as he says, “You really think so?”

Akaashi smiles, just a little. “Yeah. I do.”

Bokuto grins. His whole body buzzes.

Akaashi rests his head on Bokuto’s shoulder and Bokuto thinks he can do anything.

 

* * *

 

  


The Halloween Feast has never been less fun. Bokuto’s swarmed with butterflies and his chest is tight. What if they call his name? What if they _don’t?_   Who else will be picked? And how long will this take? He keeps scanning the faces of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students as if they might hold anymore answers than he did.

Bokuto chews at his nails rather than his meal. Nothing seems very appetizing.

“Relax, mate!” Kuroo says through a mouthful of chocolate. “Either way is going to be good. Either you get picked and you win. Or you don’t get picked and you don’t have to worry about it!”

Bokuto doesn’t know about that. It feels to Bokuto more like either he has to fail at all the challenges or live with the knowledge he wasn’t good enough to even try. He curses himself. Why did he do this? Why did he even have to enter in the first place? At least then he wouldn't be sitting here, wiggling and wondering.

Akaashi looks at him worriedly. “If you aren’t going to eat, you should at least drink something.”

Bokuto nods, but his hands shake too much to pour out the pumpkin juice without sloshing it everywhere. Akaashi takes the pitcher from him gently.

“Let me do it,” he says. "Take deep breaths." 

“I think I have some Sugar Quills that are supposed to have relaxants in them during tests,” Kuroo says, rummaging through his pockets. “Mostly it just makes me fall asleep while writing essays but--”

Headmaster Nekomata rises and the Great Hall stills. Bokuto chokes on his juice and Kuroo thumps him on the back.

“Happy Halloween!” Headmaster Nekomata says, beaming down at all of them. “It’s been wonderful having our guests here to celebrate a most wicked, bewitching time with us...”

Bokuto’s still coughing. Other Ravenclaws hush him and Akaashi shoves a fistful of napkins his way.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

Bokuto nods and Kuroo rubs his back reassuringly.

“He’s fine,” Kuroo tells Akaashi.

Akaashi doesn’t look convinced. Headmaster Nekomata’s voice raises even louder.

“But now!” he says. “It’s time to choose!”

He waves his wand and the Goblet’s flames spit higher and higher, until the whole Hall is filled with blue. Bokuto’s eyes water at it’s brightness, but he can't look away. He's steeled with the finality of it. _It's time._

A single paper flutters from the gush of flame. Slightly scorched, it falls right into Headmaster Nekomata’s hand.

“From Durmstrang,” he booms. “Mr. Ushijima Wakatoshi!”

The students from Durmstrang roar and bang on the tables with vigor. Bokuto recognizes Ushijima from walking between classes and mealtimes. He wears the same sullen expression Bokuto saw then while walking to the front of the Great Hall to claim his champion title. He seems almost oblivious to the cheering behind him.

He shakes the hands of the Headmaster Nekomata, and the Beauxbatons’ Mistress Kiyoko. His own elderly Headmaster Ukai practically crushes him in an embrace before Ushijima is escorted out of the Great Hall. 

Bokuto’s belly swoops as the Goblet flares again. A second paper lands in Headmaster Nekomata’s hand.

“And Beauxbatons…” Nekomata starts. “Miss Haiba Alisa!”

The Beauxbatons cheer much less aggressively than the Durmstrang students, but none the quieter. A willowy girl with silver-blond hair springs to her feet with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. She's quickly swept into a hug from lanky boy with hair just as silvery as her own. He kisses her cheeks twice before letting her go the front of the Great Hall.

“That’s my sister!” he shouts again and again. “My sister’s the school champion!”

Once they’re settled down again, Bokuto feels like he’s going to vomit. There’s only one school left. One spot. One name.

Kuroo wraps an arm around his shoulders and shakes him once, giving him a reassuring smile. Akaashi snatches his hand from under the table and gives him a tight squeeze.

The Goblet flares a final time.

“And from our beloved Hogwarts,” Nekomata says, final paper in hand. “Oikawa Tooru!”

Bokuto sinks. Of course. The Ravenclaws around him clap dully while the Slytherins burst into hysterics. Oikawa can hardly stumble his way up to the front so his hand is being shaken, people tugging on his robes. They start chanting his name. _Tooru, Tooru, Tooru._  

“What a rotten cup,” Kuroo says bitterly. “Clearly has no taste at all.”

“I hope he loses,” Akaashi adds. “I hope he has to fight a dragon and gets eaten.”

Oikawa catches Bokuto’s eye and smirks. Bokuto’s blood boils.

“It’s fine,” Bokuto says, voice clipped. “He’s our school champion. It’s fine.”

Just saying it feels wrong. He slumps even lower in his seat. 

Kuroo rubs his back, pulling him close. “Hey you’re okay, buddy.”

Akaashi squeezes his hand again, softer. “That Goblet’s got awful taste if it thinks my cousin would make a good champion.”

Bokuto nods as they say all the expected things, and it does make him feel a little better. Even if it doesn’t quell his disappointment. He’d just been so _sure_ \--

“And now that we have our champions,” Nekomata says. “The players in our time-honored tradition--”

Bokuto’s face pulls into a frown. He feels snakes of doubt, insecurity writhing within him. _Snakes like Oikawa_ , Bokuto thinks and he imagines tiny Oikawa-faced demons biting at the insides of his belly. 

Akaashi’s fingers are entwined with his and secure, Kuroo’s still rubbing circles into his shoulder blades. Nekomata is prattling on about honor and duty, and what it means to be a true champion when---

Blue light. Brighter than ever before, the Goblet is searing again. Bokuto thinks it's a marvel the whole school isn't consumed by the severity of its blaze.

The Great Hall hushes as a fourth paper falls from the cup.

Bokuto’s heart pounds. He doesn't know how he knows, but he _knows._   He feels Akaashi grip him more tightly, as if somehow he can feel it too. 

Nekomata reads the fourth paper, the fourth name once. Twice. His jaw has gone slack and fallen open.

Headmaster Nekomata blinks and says,

“Bokuto Koutarou.”


	2. impossibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bokuto's confused, Kuroo is clueless, and Akaashi considers the impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i literally am so overwhelmed right now because of all the nice comments and positive feedback??? you guys are incredible i'm so amazed!! thank you so much!!
> 
> special shout outs to my friends zoe @librebananr and cleo @cleiioo who basically held my hand through writing this and just are generally wonderful and beautiful people
> 
> ALSO I CAN'T BELIEVE IT BUT LOOK AT THE INCREDIBLE ART WORK BY MY INCREDIBLE FRIEND ZOE WHO IS SO TALENTED AND LOVELY AND JUST SHOWER HER IN LOVE PLEASE 
> 
> http://librebananr.tumblr.com/post/139001244186/thats-not-going-to-work-bokuto-warns-even-has

Akaashi goes bloodless.

“Bokuto Koutarou,” Nekomata repeats, this time with more certainty. “Bokuto Koutarou if you would please--”

Bokuto stands. His hand slips through Akaashi’s fingers and Akaashi fights the impulse to snatch him back. He’s flooded with an irrational desire to keep Bokuto close. As if proximity alone would somehow keep Bokuto safe. Keep him from the wrongness of being an extra champion in a competition that isn’t afraid to kill off competitors.

Bokuto’s hand isn’t shaken when he reaches the front of the Hall. There are no cheers echoing after him. Instead he’s followed by a dull, heavy sort of shock and Akaashi’s concerned gaze.  

Bokuto is whisked away with the other champions and Akaashi is immediately scouring his brain for every fact and detail on the Triwizard Tournament he can recall. _Binding magical contract_ , _time-honored wizard tradition_ , _exceedingly dangerous_ , _magic as old as Hogwarts itself_ …

The Great Hall is rumbling with murmurs.

_What’s going on?_

_Was this planned?_

_Can they even_ have _four champions?_

_How did this happen?_

Akaashi’s stomach sinks. Kuroo has turned to look at him, waiting for an answer. An explanation that Akaashi doesn’t have. Akaashi looks back at him helplessly and Kuroo’s expression darkens.

“I gotta bad feeling about this,” Kuroo says lowly.

“Me too.” Akaashi stares at the doorway Bokuto’s disappeared behind. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


Bokuto feels incredibly small sitting outside a classroom an hour later. The torches have dimmed and the October chill has seized the darkened corridors. The other champions sit alongside him. Oikawa is reclined, his neck exposed as he faces the ceiling. His eyes are closed, like he is trying to relax, but his jaw is tight and fingers twitch. Ushijima is hunched over, head in his hands and his expression more sour than ever. Alisa sits with her legs crossed and arms tucked in, like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible.

Bokuto shivers, arms folded across his chest and hands in his armpits for warmth. He feels exposed. He had been stripped of his wand before the Headmasters had sealed themselves in the classroom. Bokuto wonders if any of them had thought to cast a charm to soundproof the room, or if their shouting had really become that loud.

“So,” Alisa says eventually, breaking their relatively-comfortable silence. “I like the way you style your hair. Um. What was it again--?”

Bokuto blinks and looks at her way. “Oh, uh. Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou.”

She smiles and it is unfairly pretty. “It elongates your face. Brings attention to those handsome cheekbones of yours.”

Bokuto wasn’t sure which was more astounding; the fact that someone as beautiful as Alisa was complimenting him or that she was complimenting him on his _hair_ of all things. He gives a shaky laugh, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah! Uh, it was sort of an accident,” he admits. “In my second year, my friend and I were experimenting with charms to get rid of his bed-head, and a spell backfired and--” Bokuto gestures to the white spikes of his hair. “It’s been like this ever since.”

Alisa laughs. “A happy accident!”

Bokuto flushes. “Y-yeah, I guess it was.”

She fiddles with her fingers for a moment and Bokuto is painfully reminded of Akaashi. His hands feel empty without his wand. He wishes he could call to Tiggles or Tia and send his friends word that he was alright. Or was alright for now. Bokuto’s feels like his belly and innards have been squished and mushed and left to churn.

Alisa opens her mouth to say something else, but another voice comes first.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

Oikawa’s eyes have fluttered open, though they still stare at the ceiling, unfocused and glassy.

Bokuto turns his gaze on him. “What?”

“Someone had to bewitch the cup to draw your name,” Oikawa says. “The Goblet of Fire doesn’t just pick a fourth champion on accident.”

Bokuto frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Oikawa says. He rolls his head to give Bokuto a grim smile. “Keiji’s clever enough to do it. Kuroo’s got enough nerve. Of course it was them.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “Well, they didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

Oikawa’s smile spreads. “Wouldn’t?”

His eyes flutter shut again. He adjusts to face the ceiling once more.

“You’d be surprised what your friends are capable of,” Oikawa says lowly.

Bokuto feels the weight of his words. He doesn’t know what implications Oikawa has laced in the pauses between speech, but Bokuto feels them crawl up his spine like something sinister.

There is a deep, rumbling scoff.

All gazes turn to Ushijima. He sits up straight and gives Oikawa a stern look. “You really are an idiot if you believe that.”

Oikawa’s expression turns cross. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Ah!” Alisa says arily. “There’s no need for that now--”

“It wasn’t a friend who made Bokuto a champion,” Ushijima says, continuing as if Alisa hadn’t spoken.“This was sabotage.”

Even the muffled shouting of their headmasters has quieted. Bokuto feels as if the cold has seeped to his very core.

“Sabotage?” Bokuto repeats. Does his voice sound unusually high out of fear or just in contrast to Ushijima’s deep bass tone? Bokuto clears his throat.

Ushijima nods solemnly.

“The Goblet of Fire creates a binding magical contract,” he recites. “Whoevers name comes from it has to compete, or suffer dire consequences. The tasks are dangerous. Deadly. And if someone has no choice but to continue into dangerous situations at a specified time and a specified place…”

_“It’s dangerous,” Akaashi had said. “Really dangerous.”_

_“People die in this thing, mate.”_

Bokuto swallows.

Oikawa’s gaze hasn’t lost any of its venom. “You’re saying it’s a set up.”

Ushijima shrugs. “Like you said. The Goblet of Fire doesn’t just pick a fourth champion on accident.”

Alisa nibbles on her bottom lip, slender hand brought to her chin.

“But…” she says after a moment. “But who would want to hurt Bokuto?”

All gazes have shifted to Bokuto now, each with their own kind of concern.

Bokuto curls deeper into his seat and isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


“ _Sabotage?_ ”

Kuroo repeats it  like he has never heard the word before. Bokuto hushes him. He checks that the corridors are empty of eavesdroppers as he, Kuroo, and Akaashi shuffle toward the grounds. Kuroo and Akaashi have smuggled Bokuto plates of food; toast and sausage and eggs-- Bokuto wolfs it down.

It had been almost three in the morning before the Headmasters had settled. Eventually coming to the conclusion that no, Bokuto couldn’t possibly have been the one who tampered with the Goblet. And that _yes_ , despite the suspicious circumstances, Bokuto would have no choice but to compete as a second Hogwarts School representative and a fourth Triwizard competitor. Fair or not.

“Yeah,” Bokuto says through a mouthful of a makeshift sandwich. “I mean. If I didn’t do it, and the Goblet never messes up...”

Kuroo looks incredulous. “There couldn’t have been like, I dunno, a tie or something? Like it thought both of you were worthy?”

Akaashi is scowling. “We would have been warned if that was a possibility.”

“They seemed really surprised,” Bokuto says. Muffled shouts recall to him and he winces.

“But it doesn’t make any sense! You don’t have any secret arch-enemies, do you?” Kuroo asks. He looks between Bokuto and Akaashi as if he thinks he might be being pranked.

Bokuto shrugs and takes another large bite. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“What else did they say?” Akaashi says. He presses a napkin to Bokuto’s chest and he wipes his mouth half-heartedly. “Anything about the tasks? What you need to do to prepare?”

Bokuto shakes his head. “The First Task’s a blind test. All I get is my wand.”

Kuroo is shaking his head and cursing under his breath. Akaashi chews the inside of his cheek, looking paler than usual.

“But hey, I can do it right?” Bokuto says, though the confidence in his voice is weak. “You guys believe in me.”

Kuroo sighs and runs a hand through his impossible hair. “It’s not about believing in you, mate. Something is seriously wrong here.”

Akaashi rubs the webbing between his fingers. “If someone is trying to hurt you-- kill you even-- then we aren’t taking any chances. We have to find out what the First Task is.”

Bokuto’s innards squirm with apprehension. Could he really call himself a champion if he cheated and cut corners along the way? There’s no arguing with the set determination on both Akaashi and Kuroo’s faces however. He steels and forces himself to nod along.

“Not taking any chances,” he agrees.

Kuroo squints, thinking. “I bet you Nekomata has some sort of plan for the task in his office. If we can get in there, I bet we’d find something that could help. Plans, schedules--”

Akaashi hums in agreement. “He would have to have corresponded with the other headmasters for approval on the tasks. Letters or a guideline of some kind.”

“Give me a week and I’ll have us in there,” Kuroo says, nodding firmly. “When’s the task?”

“The twenty-fourth,” Bokuto answers. Less than a month. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like it’s any time at all. His toast sandwich is cold now, and the eaten bits feel like stones in his belly.

Kuroo’s jaw tightens. “I’ll hurry.”

He turns and jogs off without another word. Bokuto watches after him bleakly.

Akaashi looks at Bokuto, eyes full of worry and something else Bokuto can't quite read. He pulls out another napkin and dabs the corner of Bokuto’s mouth.

“You still have crumbs,” he explains. 

 

* * *

 

Akaashi doesn’t sleep much in the following weeks. He can tell Bokuto and Kuroo don’t either. Bokuto has heavy bags under his eyes and Kuroo’s sleeping so little his hair is losing some of it’s messy, bed-rumpled quality.

Whatever Kuroo’s plan is to break them into Headmaster Nekomata’s office is taking longer than he anticipated. He refuses to tell Akaashi what he’s actually up to, but Akaashi knows it can’t be going well. More often than not, Kuroo storms back to the common room late in the evening, slamming the eagle-crested door behind him and spewing a stream of curses.

If anything Akaashi is doing worse. If he isn’t in the library pouring over old Triwizard History books, he’s out with Bokuto in a spare classroom to work on his spellwork. They practice standard spells, ones bound to be useful. Shield Charms, Stunning Spells, Summoning Charms-- Akaashi has fallen asleep twice on his copy of “ _The Adventurer’s Handbook: Spells to Keep Up Your Sleeve!_ ” in his search for more.

When Akaashi does manage to sleep it’s restless. The possibilities haunt him. Dragons. Dementors. Acromantula. His mind is compulsively making lists of worst-case scenarios, what to do if Bokuto somehow got hurt, how to intervene if necessary. Lists of people who could ever, possibly want to hurt Bokuto--

That last one strikes him coldest.

Whoever tampered with the Goblet had to be powerful, capable of dark and twisted magic. They had to be clever too. Clever enough to isolate their target in a competition that’s deadly enough on its own. And someone with motive. Someone who was very determined to have Bokuto killed.

Akaashi feels his bones rattle. There is only one person he knew who could fill all three. But it’s impossible. He tries to shake the nagging thought. _It’s impossible_.

Between all these added pressures, their classes, and the increasing amount of homework they’re being allotted would be enough. But Bokuto can’t walk through the corridors without being followed by whispers and sneers.

_“How d’you reckon he did it?”_

_“Typical Slytherins’ lot. Always getting the short end of the stick. Can’t get a bit of glory without someone trying to rip it out from under our noses--”_

_“The_ Fake _Champion.”_

Akaashi can tell Bokuto is trying not to let it get to him. But Akaashi also knows Bokuto is always soft against the word of others. He sees it weigh on the broad set of Bokuto’s shoulders. Sink something dark into the golden color of his eyes. It makes Akaashi feel dark and heavy too.

This is why Akaashi is so easily swayed when Bokuto and Kuroo beg him to study outside. It’s still cold out, but the sky is clear and the chill means they have some semblence of privacy. There are only a couple third years waded out into the lake, but even their loud bickering seems softer in the space of the grounds. Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo sit in the sun, Bokuto watching over the lake-waders with mild interest. Akaashi is huddled with his robes bunched over his fists as he tries to stay warm while he flips through a dusty volume of “ _Champions Among Champions_.” He swallows at a gruesome depiction of a champion suffocating and withering as he’s poisoned, helpless as he was unable to finish brewing the antidote as the Task required. Akaashi shivers.

“Hopefully we don’t get that one,” Kuroo mutters, reading over Akaashi’s shoulder. “Kou’s absolute rubbish at potions.”

Akaashi’s hands tighten around the worn book. “It’d be difficult to practice for too. We’d need time and ingredients.”

“I reckon I can nick something from Professor Mizoguchi’s supply to practice with,” Kuroo muses. “Though if we only have a wand for this first one--”

“--it might do us better just to practice the spellwork, yes,” Akaashi finishes.

“Can we put that thing away? It’s going to give us nightmares,” Bokuto mutters, tearing up grass idly.

Kuroo makes a face. “We’re just trying to help, mate.”

Bokuto shuffles, tucking his knees closer to his chest. “I know…”

Akaashi hates the helpless tone in Bokuto’s voice. Kuroo leans over to wrap an arm around Bokuto.

“Hey, you’re gonna do great in the Tournament I just know--”

“Can we talk about something else?” Bokuto snaps, tone suddenly sharp and irritated. “ _Anything_ else?”

Akaashi feels a dull pang of guilt. Kuroo retracts, blinking fast and looking hurt.

“Sorry,” Bokuto says. He kneads his palms into his eyes. “Sorry I didn’t mean I-- sorry.”

Akaashi softens with concern. He shuts the book and tucks it away.

“It’s alright,” Akaashi says. “Come here.”

Bokuto uncurls and scoots over. He rests his head on Akaashi’s thigh and Akaashi cards his fingers through Bokuto’s wild, hexed hair.

“You’re okay,” Akaashi says. “We can talk about something else.”

Bokuto soothes. He’s still frowning, but he loses the irritated tension in his muscles. Bokuto sighs and settles under Akaashi’s touch.

Kuroo looks at Akaashi disbelievingly. He mouths the words “ _Owl Tamer_ ” and Akaashi smirks.

There’s a cry, a splash. The horrible gasp of someone dunked in cold water. Akaashi lurches, nearly knocking Bokuto off his lap.

“Dumbass, Shouyou!” Kageyama bellows, waded through the lake. “You’ve scared it off!”

“Don’t call me dumbass, dumbass!” Hinata barks back. He looks even tinier with his robes flattened and soaked against his skin. “You’re the one who startled me!”

Akaashi relaxes. Kuroo sniggers into his hand while Bokuto looks thoughtful.

“Just some third years,” Akaashi says. He runs his fingers through Bokuto’s hair again, trying to get him to settle but Bokuto’s attention isn’t won over. He watches Kageyama and Hinata bicker with a kind of fascination.

Kuroo grins at him. “Hey, remember when we got the Giant Squid to let us ride on its back?”

Bokuto’s eyes brighten. “We? Are you kidding, that was all me!”

Kuroo scoffs. “No it wasn’t! I was on there for at least ten minutes!”

“A minute and a half,” Akaashi corrects dully. His fingers miss the warmth of Bokuto’s hair and he tucks his hands in his robes to compensate.

“Yeah, a minute and a half!” Bokuto repeats with more conviction.

“It was longer than that! You were there! You _saw_.” Kuroo insists. "I'm probably the best squid-wrangler this school's ever seen!" 

Bokuto sits up straight, beaming. “Prove it!”

That, of course, was exactly what Kuroo wanted to hear. He leaps to his feet. “You’re on!”

Akaashi wrinkles his nose. “But it’s cold.”

Bokuto and Kuroo fumble to toe off their shoes and shrug off their robes. Kuroo sends Akaashi a wicked look.

“What? Not scared are you, Keiji?” Kuroo prods.

“You two are going to get sick if you jump in there,” Akaashi warns.

“Someone needs to teach the underclassmen how it’s done,” Bokuto says, loosening his tie. “You’ll keep time for us right?”

“Do I have a choice?” Akaashi asks irritably and Kuroo laughs.

“You’ve always had a choice,” Kuroo says. He tosses his robe at Akaashi’s face. “But you’re still here aren’t you?”

Bokuto and Kuroo jog out into the lake, laughing and jostling one another along the way. Hinata screams as Bokuto approaches and Bokuto hooks an arm around him, ruffling his mop of orange hair. Bokuto looks positively gleeful as Kuroo hisses and flinches at the cold. They splash at each other, shouting teases, and Akaashi feels a tug of unwanted jealousy. _Who’s the owl tamer now?_

Akaashi’s mouth twists into a frown as he folds up Kuroo and Bokuto’s discarded robes and ponders. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen Bokuto smile like that since before his name sprung from the Goblet. Maybe it’s because he’s unbelievably stressed and needs to get some of the crazy out of his system. Maybe it’s because he still can’t shake the feeling that Bokuto was placed in the Tournament, made the “Fake Champion” because of--

 _Impossible_ , Akaashi thinks firmly. _It’s impossible_.

Bokuto is beaming. The Giant Squid has decided to humor them by staying just below the surface and batting at them with its tentacles. Kageyama’s face is blotchy with red suction circles from where the Squid had hung on too long and Kuroo cackles wildly at his expression.

Bokuto waves at Akaashi, hair flattened with lakewater. “Come on in, Keiji, the water’s fine!”

 _Maybe I’m just getting soft_ , Akaashi thinks.

Warmth blooms at his chest at the sight of Bokuto, soaked and shivering, but happy. Himself.

Akaashi really can’t resist.

He shrugs off his robes, kicks off his shoes and marches into the lake with dignity. Dignity that is spectacularly ruined under Bokuto and Kuroo’s combined excitement, as they tackle him and dunk him in icy water justly.

(No one ends up hitching a ride on the Giant Squid’s back that day. Kuroo and Bokuto end up in a water war. Hinata gushes over just about anything Bokuto does while Kageyama fights to get Hinata’s attention back on him. And they end up sloshing lakewater all the way up to the Hospital Wing when Kuroo slips and knocks his head on the rocky lake floor. Their school Healer Takeda shrieks at the sight of them and demands they have at least two glasses of Pepper-Up Potion each before he prescribes them all hot baths and bed rest.

It’s worth it, Akaashi thinks as Bokuto slings an arm around him, still toasty warm from Pepper-Up Potions and smelling like every kind of soap Hogwarts possesses. Kuroo leans on Akaashi’s other shoulder, probably dozing off. And for a brief moment, it’s just the three of them curled up and safe in front of the common room fire, and Akaashi thinks everything is going to be okay.)

 

* * *

 

 

"One more," Akaashi presses. "Come on, Koutarou you almost got it." 

Bokuto is broken out in sweat, rubbing his temples furiously. His tie loose, as he sits upside down, the tips of his hair scraping the floor. His logic being that the more blood in his brain the better he might think. The Ravenclaw Tower is nearly empty and they have all the room to spread out their textbooks, notes and quills-- It doesn't surprise Akaashi that Bokuto manages to be messy even in the most quiet of things.

Bokuto groans and Akaashi kicks him quiet. 

"Come on," Akaashi repeats. "It's not a hard one." 

"They're all hard!" Bokuto protests.

"We can take a break after this," Akaashi promises. "Just one more." 

Bokuto slumps, holding up his fingers as he counts them off. "I got ink... strengthening potions..." 

Akaashi nods encouragingly. "Yes, yes. And?" 

Bokuto pouts. "Is it a dumb one?" 

Truthfully yes, but Akaashi glares anyway. 

Bokuto sits up, face beet red from being upside down. "I know that face. That face means it's a dumb one." 

"Okay maybe," Akaashi relents. "But you should still know all twelve--" 

Bokuto snatches the list from him and reads.

"Oven-cleaner?!" Bokuto shouts, outraged. "Who the hell uses dragon's blood as _oven-cleaner?_ " 

Akaashi shrugs. He hopes Bokuto is has hungry as he is. Akaashi's stomach feels like it's going to shrivel away if it doesn't get fed.

"That better come in handy, Keiji!" Bokuto says. "Like, a pop quiz during the task or-- or--" 

Akaashi hums in amusement. "A kitchen upkeep challenge? You can't get past until your oven is spotless?" 

That wins Akaashi a laugh. Bokuto collapses back into the couch still giggling.

Akaashi is just about to suggest they head down to the kitchens when the door bursts open. They lurch and a sweaty, heaving Kuroo fills the common room entryway. He's bent over, clutching a letter in his hand, but grinning with wild excitement. 

"I've done it!" he says victoriously. "I know what's going to happen in the First Task!" 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments and feedback mean the absolute world to me!! thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> ((hmu @cutiekeiji on tumblr!!)


	3. be prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Task is upon Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo. But there are somethings no one can prepare for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SO SO SORRY HOW LONG IT TOOK TO UPDATE OH MY GOD but thank you all so much for being patient and supportive!!!! i've had a rough few weeks between losing my job and then writers block is literally draining my life force so this chapter is sort of in-betweenish?? i promise i'll have more updates sooner I just need to get everything on track aldsfjk
> 
> special shout out to cleo who is beautiful and wonderful and incredible the most darling friend in the universe and literally held my hand and shouted at me until i wrote it all out!!!

The day of the First Task is bleak. Flat, grey-heavy clouds hang low over the castle, sunken over the jarring towers and swept over the lake. The lake reflects back at its bleakness, steely and unforgiving.

Akaashi hopes it isn’t a bad omen.

Kuroo seems to share his same sense of dread. He paces up and down the paved courtyard, the clocktower hanging over them ominously. Fifteen minutes.  Akaashi leans against a pillar, arms folded close to his chest.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Bokuto’s voice echos down the corridor and Kuroo and Akaashi exchange a glance. An unspoken agreement is shared: _H_ e __ _can’t know we’re scared_. Kuroo straightens, putting on his best grin. Akaashi smooths out his robes, standing beside him and hopes he appears more collected than he feels.

Bokuto clamors down the staircase and Akaashi is knocked breathless.

“This outfit is ridiculous,” Bokuto says, fumbling with the straps of his thick gloves. “Nothing fits right!”

 _He looks broader_ , Akaashi thinks. The body armor under his golden champion robes adds more to his already strong shoulders, solidifies his muscular stature. His name is emblazoned across his back in sharp black script, just above Ravenclaw’s symbol. An eagle in mid-flight.

Akaashi’s mouth is inexplicably dry.  

“You look great, mate!” Kuroo assures, clapping Bokuto on the back. Kuroo jostles him a little, like he’s trying to shake out Bokuto’s usual enthusiasm. “You look bad-ass!”

“I feel stupid,” Bokuto says. “I mean, it’s not like a chest plate is going to stop a killing curse if someone’s coming after me.”

Bokuto knocks on said chest plate and scowls. His glove is coming loose again.

“Well, it certainly won’t hurt,” Akaashi says evenly. He takes Bokuto’s hand, loosening the straps and re-adjusting. “And you’re wearing it wrong, that’s why it doesn’t fit.”

Akaashi slides the glove down to proper position and Bokuto pouts. “But then it doesn’t cover my fingers!”

“That’s how fingerless gloves work, Koutarou.”

Kuroo scoffs. “It’s stupid, but _supposedly_ wands work best when in contact with their wizard’s skin. I think that’s all hogwash. Just some mad, pureblooded rumor.”

Bokuto is still frowning, but he flexes his hands and seems reassured. If only a little.

“You have your wand, right?” Akaashi asks.

“Here,” Bokuto says, patting his jean pocket.

“And the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder incase you need to make an escape?” Kuroo adds.

“Yes,” Bokuto says. He shakes his ankle and packet rattles in his sock.

“And you remember the signals?” Akaashi presses.

“Yes.” Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s wrist for emphasis and Akaashi stifles a blooming feeling rising in his chest. “Conjuring a blue bird means get ready to come after me. Red birds means come after me _now_ , and if I’m okay I’ll give a thumbs up to the audience,” he recites. “Worst case scenario: I transfigure and fly out of there.”

Kuroo nods and Akaashi’s mouth is a set, grim line.

“I’ll be fine,” Bokuto says, though he doesn’t sound convincing. “We’re super prepared, see?”

Bokuto knocks on his chestplate again and Akaashi wants to be reassured. Akaashi wants to find solace in his lists, their detailed plans, their hours upon hours of preparation. But he can’t. His fears are irrational as they are persistent. Tugging on him, pleading with him. He is filled with a fervent fight or flight instinct that begs him to take Bokuto and Kuroo and run. Run somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere but here.

The clocktower clangs sharply above them. Akaashi hands clamp over his ears while Bokuto and Kuroo wince. Akaashi’s heart feels stony and solid as it rams against his chest, pulsing through his whole body. _Time's up_.

Bokuto takes a deep breath. “That’s my cue.”

“We can walk you down,” Kuroo offers.

“Make sure you get there safe,” Akaashi adds. His own voice sounds muffled through the ringing in his ears.

Bokuto nods a little. “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

Kuroo’s expression turns sly. He ducks under Bokuto’s arm, draping himself under Bokuto’s bicep. Akaashi follows suit, slinging one arm loosely around Bokuto’s hips, the other holding Bokuto’s arm snug around him. Bokuto shoots grins at both of them.

“I knew you guys secretly liked walking like this,” he teases.

Kuroo sniggers and hip-bumps him. Akaashi hides his smile by nuzzling it into Bokuto’s warm, broad chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It feels familiar walking down the grounds as a connected unit like that. Almost like everything’s normal. Bokuto is giggling as they close in on the large white tents rimming the Forbidden Forest. Kuroo is beaming under the shadow of relocated Quidditch stands, now set to face the looming forest and startlingly vacant. Akaashi hums and shakes with quiet laughter, and for a glorious moment, Bokuto can pretend they’re merely on a walk like any other Saturday afternoon.

However the illusion is shattered once they reach the tent entrance. They stay tangled together for a quiet moment and Bokuto tenses. Maybe if he just doesn’t release them they won’t have to leave.

Kuroo gives him a swift nudge. “Well, come on, we can walk you inside at least.”

Bokuto nods. Kuroo and Akaashi slide out from his embrace. His arms feel like deadweight at his sides.

He sets his jaw and steps forward anyway.

It’s decidedly warmer in the tent. Spacious, and weighed grey from the clouds outside, but Bokuto finds comfort in it nonetheless. Comfort that is squashed when he spots four hospital-wing beds lined against the tent wall. The school Healer Takeda fusses with a cabinet full of steaming potions and hiccuping canisters. He wears a sash across his chest that flashes between reading: ‘ _Witch-Doctor on Duty’_ and ‘ _A toadstool a day keeps the Healer away!_ ’ The Headmasters are off murmuring with one another in the far corner, along with three others Bokuto doesn’t recognize. A narrow-boned man in violently violet robes, a short blonde who looks very weighed by the camera about her neck, and a portly gentlemen with what appears to be something of a sweating problem. He holds several spotted handkerchiefs in his pudgy fists and dabs his forehead often.  

Alisa and Oikawa chat quietly on a shared bench. Ushijima, who appears to have been pacing, is the only one who notices their entrance. He turns to them and frowns slightly.

“Only champions are allowed in the tent,” he rumbles, gaze shifting between Kuroo and Akaashi. “They can’t be in here.”

Bokuto feels a flash of irritation at Ushijima’s authoritative tone. Akaashi catches Bokuto’s wrist and cuts off his retort.

“We were just seeing him off,” Akaashi assures. “We’ll be gone in a moment.”

Ushijima nods curtly and resumes his pacing of the tent. Kuroo sticks his tongue out at him in distaste.

“He seems friendly,” Kuroo says, jabbing a thumb at Ushijima’s back. “Are all of them this unpleasant?”

“Stop trying to pick fights with everyone,” Akaashi lectures. “We don’t need anymore enemies.”  

Bokuto rolls out his shoulders, trying to shake off his annoyance. Akaashi’s right; they have enough to worry about. Their chatter has drawn glances from Headmasters Nekomata and Ukai. Bokuto fidgets under Headmaster Ukai’s narrow, harrowing gaze.

“You guys should go,” Bokuto says lowly. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Kuroo steps forwards and crushes Bokuto in a tight embrace.

“You got this, mate. I believe in you,” Kuroo whispers, voice mushed in how tightly he holds Bokuto.

Bokuto swells with affection. He sinks his head into Kuroo’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Stay safe, promise?”

“Promise.”

Kuroo draws back for a moment and places a swift kiss to Bokuto’s cheek.

“I’ll cheer so loud they’ll forget there’s two Hogwarts champions," he says.

Bokuto snorts, though his eyes are misty and Kuroo slips away, disappearing from the tent. Akaashi lingers, looking at Bokuto with that blazing, beautiful gaze of his.

“Keiji--” Bokuto begins but he never reaches the end of it. Akaashi yanks him down by the front of his robes and kisses Bokuto fiercely.

It’s off-center and brief. More teeth than tenderness, more harsh desperation than the sweet, adoring kisses Bokuto has imagined and Akaashi breaks away far too quickly. Half of Bokuto’s mouth is kissed while the other is stinging with neglect. Akaashi’s fingers have gone white, fisted in Bokuto’s robes.

He whispers: “If you die out there, I’ll kill you.”

Akaashi turns and disappears after Kuroo. Bokuto dimly registers he should chase him. Demand a proper kiss, a proper goodbye or at the very least an explanation--

Instead he touches the kissed corner of his mouth and gapes.

 _Snap!_ His vision goes blank and he flinches. Behind an overly-large, ancient camera is a trembling girl.

“Sorry!” she pipes.  

She is unceremoniously shoved aside and replaced with narrow-boned man in elaborate violet robes with a very wicked grin.

“Aha! So it _is_ you!” he says delightedly. “Bokuto Koutarou! The Miracle Champion!”

His expression is almost hungry as he takes in Bokuto. Like Bokuto is a prize and this gentleman has just won the jackpot. Bokuto rubs his watering eyes, still trying to wash the the flash residue from his vision.

“Miracle Champion?” Bokuto repeats.

 _Snap snap snap!_ Photo after photo assaults him as the woman swivels around him, crouching low for better angles. The intruding man tuts, smacking his forehead.

“Pardon me, the name’s Tendou!” he says, thrusting out a hand and shaking Bokuto’s vigorously. “Tendou Satori! Writer of the _Daily Prophet_ ’s new hit column _Tendou Talks!_ Juicy new articles every Thursday! Mind if I ask you a couple questions, kid?”

“Um--” Bokuto shields his eyes as the woman’s camera keeps flashing.  

“Oh, don’t mind my assistant,” Tendou says breezily, placing a hand on his hip. “Yachi is a _fabulous_ photographer. She’ll make you look good! Just pretend she isn’t there.”

Yachi confirms with a thumbs-up and a _snap!_ Bokuto winces.

“I like the hair, kid, you style it for the attention? You’ve always a rebellious streak, kid? Is that why you entered the Triwizard Tournament? How do your fans take it when Oikawa Tooru throw around terms like ‘Fake Champion’?” Tendou fires off in rapid succession.

“I-- I um--” Bokuto stammers.

“I see, I see,” Tendou says, scribbling away fervently with a pad and quill. “Fabulous! Just fabulous!”

Yachi shoots him another thumbs up and squeaks, “Fabulous!"

“There any _reason_ for Tooru to think you’re some kind of fake?” Tendou inquires, bringing his quill to his chin. “Is he onto something? Or is that just the jealousy talking? How _did_ you manage to get your name in that Goblet, anyhow?”

“Like anyone else,” Bokuto says. At last, a question he’s somewhat prepared for. “I’m of age and I entered. I don’t know why the Goblet chose me as a fourth.”

Tendou snorts at that. “Alright, alright keep your secrets! But readers are just _dying_ to know, you know! A fourth champion? Sounds like a miracle!”

Bokuto thinks Tendou has a funny way of looking at things when a cold clearing of the throat cuts through. Yachi drops her camera with a yelp.

“I thought I made it very clear you were not to harass my students, Mr. Tendou,” Headmaster Nekomata says darkly.

Bokuto never thought he’d be relieved to see the Professor so furious. Tendou jolts and raises his hand in surrender.

“Of course! I mean, of course not!” Tendou pipes. “I would never Headmaster Nekomata, never! Koutarou and I were just having a friendly chat. Eh, Koutarou? Friendly chat, isn’t that right?”

Bokuto fumbles with a response as Tendou’s gaze seems pleading. Headmaster Nekomata ignores them both and drops a heavy hand on Bokuto’s shoulder.

“The students have just been called down,”  he announces, drawing the attention of the whole tent. “They’ll be ready in about ten minutes. That should give us just enough time to debrief you on your Task.”

Bokuto can’t help but notice Tendou’s relief. Headmaster Nekomata steers Bokuto toward the cluster of headmasters and Bokuto hears the telltale _snap, snap, snap_ of Yachi’s camera following behind.  

Alisa smiles they gather but she’s the only one. Ushijima and Oikawa both look grim. Headmaster Ukai is glaring, his arms folded across his chest. The portly gentleman Bokuto doesn’t recognize keeps dabs under his chin, muttering nervous-sounding things and Headmistress Kiyoko looks stoic as ever.

“Is this everyone? Everyone doing alright?” the portly man checks in.

Alisa nods enthusiastically while Ushijima gives a vague grunt. Oikawa sniffs and the portly gentleman seemingly takes Bokuto’s dazed expression as agreement and continues.

“Good! Good,” he says, wringing his damp handkerchief.  “Excellent-- ah yes, Headmaster…”

Headmaster Nekomata releases Bokuto and clears his throat.

“For those of you who don’t know, this is Britain's own Minister of Magic, Himura Matsoto,” Headmaster Nekomata introduces. “In the event of a fourth champion, he will be serving as our fourth Triwizard judge.”

Minister Himura gives them a little wave and Headmaster Ukai’s scowl deepens, as though he doesn't approve this choice of judge. Bokuto fidgets uncomfortably. He can't help but feel that this quiet tension is _his_ fault.

Headmistress Kiyoko steps forward with a small velvet bag.

“Choose one,” she says, holding it open first to Alisa. “And choose carefully.”

The champions already know what is about to happen. It was all in the outline Kuroo swiped from Headmaster Nekomata’s office. And it was under Bokuto’s insistence that the other champions were informed too. Kuroo was reluctant to share his prized, stolen information, but Akaashi had agreed at once.

_“If someone was going to tamper with the with the Tasks, any one of the champions could get caught in the crossfire,” Akaashi had said. “They have just as much reason to be cautious as Koutarou.”_

It still feels a little like cheating to Bokuto. But at least the playing field is fair.

Alisa reaches into the velvet bag and flinches. Her fingers retreat pink and burning, but she presses forward once more and draws a horned, violet-colored, crab-like creature from the pouch. It snaps and wiggles as it’s suspended by one claw. Yachi’s camera flashes excitedly.

“Fire Crab,” Kiyoko confirms. “Watch your fingers, he bites.”

Alisa looks more intrigued than cautious. She draws the Fire Crab close to her face and very nearly gets her eyebrows singed off as a fireball is huffed her way. Headmistress Kiyoko moves to Ushijima. He rummages before choosing and Bokuto squirms at the squeaks and peeps the bag makes in protest. Ushijima draws out a vivid blue creature with razor thin limbs and even thinner wings pinched between his fingers.

“Cornish Pixie,” Kiyoko says. “And a nasty one too.”

Ushijima’s expression doesn’t change, but he holds the squirming Pixie as far from his body as he can. The flashing of Yachi’s camera only gets more intense.

Oikawa’s smirk fades when Headmistress Kiyoko turns to him. He delves in with confidence and leaps back shrieking.

“Something bit me!” Oikawa cries, clutching his wrist. There is scarlet splashed across his index finger.

“You get that Yach? You get the blood in the shot?” Tendou whispers eagerly. “Come on, snap those faster!”

Headmistress Kiyoko looks unimpressed and pushes the bag closer to Oikawa’s chest. He scowls, shoves his hand into the bag and rips a feathery grey handful from it.

“Hippogriff,” Kiyoko says, voice clipped and cold. “A _noble_ creature.”

Oikawa doesn’t seem to agree with her sentiment. He sucks on his bitten finger while holding the Hippogriff away from any other vulnerable appendages.

Kiyoko turns to Bokuto and he’s doused in fresh anxiety. _Here it is._ The bag is extended to him, expectant. Bokuto feels his chest is too tight to contain all the excitement, apprehension, and cold-blooded fear churning inside him.

 _Carefully_ , Headmistress Kiyoko had said. Bokuto lowers his hand in gently. Slow.

Feathers, fur, a sharp nip-- Bokuto winces but doesn’t retract-- He keeps his hand limp, remembering the squeaks and squeals of jostled creatures. He skims over shells, scaly skin, sleek coats of fur-- And then something soft is pressed against his palm. Bokuto’s fingers warm, tingle with rightness. His hand curls around a slim form and carefully, _carefully_ \--

The unicorn is a sparkling, blazing white. Bokuto cups his other hand under it. Allows the unicorn to stand on his flattened his palm, sheltering it with the other. The unicorn emits their own light, glowing against Bokuto’s skin. It shakes out their long, golden mane. Bokuto pulls the unicorn closer and it’s spearing horn glitters in their own light. Bokuto's lips part, wondering how something so small can seem so miraculous.

Oikawa bursts into laughter.

“A _unicorn?_ ” he wheezes. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Kiyoko shoots him a dark look, Minister Himura mutters, “ _My word_ ,” and Headmaster Nekomata steps in.

“You would be wise to better appreciate the raw power of a unicorn, Oikawa,” he says in his deep, gravelly voice. “Some of the greatest, purest magic known to wizardkind comes from unicorns. They’re incredibly agile. Impossibly fast, and most regrettably in Bokuto’s case, they’re infamously difficult to catch.”

“But unicorns distrust men,” Ushijima interrupts bluntly. “The unicorn should be assigned to Alisa. She’s the only one with a chance at catching it.”

“That’s an old pureblooded myth,” Alisa says, uncharacteristically irritable. “Unicorns are distrustful to all creatures. If they weren’t, they’d have been hunted to extinction long ago.”

The unicorn snorts and Bokuto wishes he could somehow cover their ears to all of this. Ushijima’s puckered frown remains on Alisa until Headmistress Kiyoko speaks up again.

“For most of you, catching your creature will be the easier part,” says Headmistress Kiyoko. She pulls the drawstrings tight and sets the bag aside. “The real challenge lies in tracking it. The Forbidden Forest is vast and treacherous. You have only two hours to locate your creature and subdue it before the Task is over.”

“You will be awarded points for speed, efficiency, and how well you apprehended your creature,” Headmaster Ukai adds, giving his own student Ushijima a significant look. “The holder of the highest score will receive vital information concerning the Second Task.”

“You will be observed by both your peers and judges,” says Headmaster Nekomata. “Upon completing the Task we ask that you fire gold sparks into the air and and we will help transport you back here, where you and your creature will be examined and your performance judged. Points will not be deducted for acting in self-defense, but causing your creature any unnecessary harm will result in a heavy penalty. You will receive your scores after every champion is collected and judgement agreed upon.”

“Understood?” Headmistress Kiyoko asks.

The air feels heavy in the following silence. Hundreds of footsteps rumble just outside the tent. Students laugh and chatter amiably though Bokuto can only catch snippets of their conversations. The stands must be filling up with people to witness the coming Task. Bokuto feels alien, impossibly distant from their growing excitement

The unicorn in Bokuto’s palm nickers. He hopes it's a sign of encouragement.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi jogs to catch up with Kuroo. They make their way back toward the stands, now filling with students and locals from Hogsmeade. Kuroo shoots Akaashi a knowing grin.

“Did ya do it?” he asks, sounding almost conspiratorial.

Akaashi purposefully doesn’t meet Kuroo’s gaze. He pretends to be very interested in fixing his tie, though he can feel the blush high on his cheekbones.

“Do what?” Akaashi asks stiffly.

Kuroo nudges him with his ankle. “Oh come on, I’m not _dumb_.”

Akaashi can feel the misplaced kiss like a hum under his lips. He flattens his collar and straightens his robes.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says lightly.

Kuroo snorts. “Alright, whatever I’ll just ask Kou later.”

 _If we make it to ‘later_ ,’ is Akaashi’s immediate thought and all the fluttering in his chest is crushed. His worry takes new root, slithering through him like something foul and slippery. It blares questions at him: Did Bokuto remember what tactic to use against each beast? Which beast had he chosen? Did Bokuto already know? Was he yet to find out?

Akaashi wrings his hands together and Kuroo gives him a sympathetic look.

“He’ll be okay,” Kuroo assures, squeezing Akaashi’s shoulder.

Akaashi leans into Kuroo’s touch and Kuroo wraps an arm around him. He guides Akaashi up the Quidditch stand steps to their seats-- high enough for Akaashi to comfortably take flight in his owl form, but low enough that Kuroo can scamper away as his own animal counterpart, an inky black cat. It would be a risk, of course, to transform and potentially reveal their illegal animaguses, but both Kuroo and Akaashi agree that their animagus forms would reach Bokuto faster if he was in danger. And that if Bokuto was at stake, it was a risk well worth taking.

They had planned for everything. Prepared for everything. So why does Akaashi still feel so much dread?

“ _There_ you are!” Yaku snaps as they approach. His hands on his hips, blazing Gryffindor scarf covering half his glare. A pair of silver Omnioculars hang from his neck. “We’ve been waiting for _ages_.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo says. His voice rumbles against Akaashi. “We were just seeing Kou off.”

Yaku huffs, but Kenma looks considerably less annoyed. He’s enraptured in a game of _Exploding Snap: Solitaire_ and draped in a strangely silky blanket. He doesn’t even look up as they approach.

“Daichi show up yet?” Kuroo asks, craning his neck as if to catch a glimpse of Yaku’s fellow Gryffindor.

Yaku shakes his head, settling beside Kenma. “Not yet. He’ll be here soon though.”

Akaashi feels Kuroo wilt a little in disappointment. They take their seats alongside Yaku, who gives Akaashi a grim smile and claps him on the back heartily. Kuroo keeps an arm around Akaashi and he pretends he’s allowing it rather than grateful for it. He clasps his hands together until his fingers are near bloodless.

“Merlin, it’s cold,” Kuroo hisses. “It’s alright when your body’s moving but--”

He leans over, tugging at Kenma’s silky blanket.

“ _Tetsu_ ,” he complains.

“Sharing is good for you,” Kuroo says. He drags the blanket closer to him and frowns in confusion. “Oi… Ken, where’d you get this?”

Kenma shrugs. Kuroo stands and yanks the blanket off him entirely. Unfurled it reveals itself not to be a blanket, but banner. It flashes _Stand with Tooru! The True Champion!_ along with a winking outline of Oikawa’s face in sleek silver and green.

“What the hell?” Kuroo shouts. “What the _hell_ is this?”

There’s a whistle from a separate section of stands. Daishou Suguru leers at them, fully donned in the same green and silver. An badge the size of a dinner-plate is pinned to his chest proclaims, _Tooru the True!_  and then rearranges itself into a caricature of Oikawa standing proudly over a fallen, rather foolish looking Bokuto. Bokuto's depiction has 'x’s for eyes and twittering birds twirling around his head.

Akaashi _seethes_.

“Decided to join the winning team, eh, Tetsurou?” Daishou calls over. “Good move!”

His peers whistle and jeer. They all have matching badges and several of them carry banners exactly the same as the one Kuroo is holding. Daishou’s whole section is filled with them. Smiling faces, cheering and applauding, with countless stepped-on Bokutos on their chests and waved above their heads.

Akaashi feels sick.

“So much decor,” Kuroo shoots back. “You’d think Oikawa was compensating for something.”   

Yaku makes some noise of agreement and Daishou laughs.

“People _like_ Oikawa,” Daishou says, dark eyes glittering in amusement. "Though you probably don't know what that feels like, do you?" 

A chorus of _ooohs_ follow him. Kuroo balls his hands into fists.   

“And I hope you’re ready to see your boy-toy loose,” Daishou coos as he spots Akaashi. He waggles his fingers in a wave. “Maybe that'll teach you to choose blood over boners, hm?”

Akaashi's blood boils, his mouth stinging with a kiss he couldn't regret. He stands, rips the banner out of Kuroo’s hands and bunches up the slippery fabric. Akaashi jabs his wand into the silk so hard it’s incredible the wood doesn’t snap.

“ _Incendio!_ ” he spits.

Hungry blue flames burst into life, consuming Oikawa’s winking face, spreading across the magically-altered colorings. Yaku gasps, pulling Kenma back from the blaze.

“ _Merlin_ , Keiji,” Kuroo says, stumbling back, hand over his chest.

“Still cold?” Akaashi clips.

Akaashi swishes and flicks his wand, letting the rapid fire levitate before he burns his hands or it catches on the wooden stands. Everyone has turned to look at him now, and while a few clap meekly at the display, most of the students are turned toward each other, wide-eyed and whispering. Daishou shoots him a scathing look.

“That’s your own cousin!” Daishou shouts.

Akaashi pointedly ignores him, already embarrassed at his own outburst. He tugs on Kuroo’s sleeve and they sit down together. Yaku looks mortified.

“Tooru was right about you,” Daishou says, even as his friends pull him away. One Iwaizumi Hajime shakes his head and mouths _stop_. “You really are heartless.”

Akaashi stings with the accusation. He has half a mind to return the banner, flames and all. Surely someone would dowse the fire before too much of the stand was eaten away. Akaashi humors the thought for a moment, if only to imagine Daishou’s expression.

Yaku looks at Akaashi furiously.

“And here I was thinking you were the reasonable one!” Yaku snaps.

He flourishes his wand, drenches out the fire, and stamps on the ashy remains. Kuroo scowls at Daishou’s retreating back.

“Rotten pureblood,” Kuroo mutters. “Has no idea-- if he had any clue--”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi cuts him off. “I’m sorry, Morisuke.”

Yaku accepts his apology, but Kuroo shakes his head, still muttering curses.

“I can’t believe his nerve,” hisses Kuroo. “Why didn’t we make any banners for Kou? We should have had at least a poster or _something_.”

Akaashi wants to add that they had been a bit preoccupied making sure Bokuto would actually survive the Task at hand, but he knows any argument would be lost on Kuroo. Kuroo begins listing things to plaster Bokuto’s face on and must know Akaashi isn’t really listening because he gets continually louder until he’s verging on shouting.

“I’ll wear Koutarou’s face on my ass if I have to!” Kuroo declares. “That’s friendship!”

“I found him, Suga,” a warm voice breaks out.

The stands are significantly packed now, the press of bodies quickly making air thick and humid. Daichi waves at them. He jogs toward them with a smiling Suga in-tow and is seemingly unaffected by the still-warm pile of ashes Yaku and Akaashi currently rub their hands over.

“Daichi!” Kuroo’s voice comes out an octave higher than usual. He clears his throat. “Uh, Daichi, Suga, there you are!”

Daichi beams at him. “Sorry I’m late, I had to rescue Suga from a pack of Oikawa’s fans.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Kuroo blurts. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Daichi and Suga settle beside Kuroo and Suga frowns at the lot of them.

“Is this everyone for Bokuto?” Suga asks.

“We didn’t make a _poster_ if that’s what you’re asking,” Kuroo says dully.  

Suga looks thoughtful for a moment, then brightens.

“We can improvise!” he says. “Mori? Can I?”

Yaku blinks and unwinds the scarf from around his neck. Suga takes it and stretches out the fabric. He gives Daichi a swift kick.

“Go on, yours too,” Suga says and Daichi follows suit. Suga draws out his wand and starts to enlarge the scarlet and gold fabrics.

Akaashi and Kuroo give Suga blank looks and he nods at them encouragingly.

“Come on! All of you!”

Akaashi strips both his and Kuroo’s necks bare and grows the fabric until they have four scarves the size of picnic blankets. Suga takes the frayed ends and starts binding them together. Akaashi and Daichi follow his lead until they have a patchwork quilt of sorts, half scarlet and gold, half blue and bronze.

“So, what? Wanna just wave this around and hope he gets the gist?” Kuroo asks, sounding sour.

Suga laughs. “Actually us Slytherins just learned about controlled color distortion!”

He jabs his wand at the make-shift banner. “ _Colovaria_.”

Suga traces large, loopy lettering along the fabric and _Bokuto Koutarou!_ shines in black, shimmery writing. Suga draws back, admiring his handiwork.

“It’s not much,” he admits, “but it’ll do.”

“It’s _brilliant_ ,” Daichi breathes, holding up his section with a grin.

Suga slides his wand into his pocket, flushed with pride. “Thank you.”

Kuroo folds his arms across his chest and mutters something about his neck being cold. Yaku and Akaashi adjust to support the banner evenly, but none of their pleadings can pry Kenma from his game. The tail-end exclamation point ends up draped over Kenma’s head while he snaps away underneath.

Akaashi commends Suga’s brilliance as he huddles in the warm wool. Not only were they now cozy, but Akaashi is all too eager to see the surprise on Bokuto’s face. Perhaps this will be enough to boost his morale and carry him through the Task. Kuroo seems displeased when Akaashi mentions this and Akaashi punishes him with a sharp elbow to the chest.

Their attention diverts as the Headmasters emerge from the tent. Nekomata, Ukai, Kiyoko-- then the champions. Akaashi’s heart leaps as Bokuto comes into view.

He looks somewhat confident, Akaashi thinks. Though it’s hard to tell at a distance. Akaashi aches to be near him, touch him, to better decode whatever thoughts must be racing through his head.

Akaashi recognizes the Minister of Magic waddling after but the other two are unfamiliar. The funny looking man in outrageously purple robes fidgets nervously and whispers to a small girl taking pictures like her life depends on it. Headmaster Nekomata is bathed flashes of white as he draws his wand to his throat and his magnified voice carries across the stands.

“Students! Welcome to the First Task!” he booms. “Your champions have quite a dazzling, dangerous endeavor ahead of them....”

Bokuto holds an old book. A portkey, Akaashi knows. Bound to transport him into a random location in the Forbidden Forest. Alisa, Oikawa, and Ushijima each have their own, but Akaashi only has eyes for Bokuto. Bokuto squints through the crowds of Oikawa’s silver-green, Alisa’s pale blue, and Ushijima hearty maroon.

Akaashi is struck with how feeble they must seem in comparison, but when Bokuto spots them none of that seems to matter. He’s radiant. Smiling. He bounces a little, dropping his portkey to wave at them with both hands and Ukai smacks the back of his head reprimandingly, but he’s smiling and it’s worth it. Akaashi only wishes he had kissed that smiling mouth more fully.

Headmaster Nekomata keeps speaking. “And seeing as it would be difficult to observe our champions as they wander the forest--” 

Headmasters Ukai and Kiyoko are muttering what seems to be some complicated magic, because Akaashi can see sweat dripping down the elderly Ukai’s temple. With a funny twitch of their wrists, two pearl-colored bubbles bloom from each wand tip and float skyward. They expand upon reaching the eye-level of the stands and seemingly eat away the air to make room. The bubbles flatten, fizzle with deepening colors, and burn with adding textures. They mix and rearrange until there are four close-up images of the champions, mimicking their movements in real time.

“That’s a muggle trick!” Kuroo whispers. “Like a live-stream.”

Akaashi isn’t sure what Kuroo is talking about, having grown in an all-wizard family himself. He exchanges confused glances with Suga, while Yaku and Daichi nod in understanding.

“These will allow us to follow the action and observe them as they set out to capture their beasts,” Headmaster Nekomata continues. “And on our line up, Beauxbatons Champion Haiba Alisa will be hunting a Fire Crab--”

An image of a rather nasty looking creature appears in the corner of Alisa’s screen and The Beauxbatons section shrills and cheers. They wave little pale blue flags and a tall, silvery-haired boy carries a foghorn that spews bubbles and singsongs, “ _Al-i-sa! Al-i-sa!_ ” in high, tittering voices.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi is pursuing a Cornish Pixie--”

The maroon sea of Durmstrang erupts into chanting and stomping. One wand shoots bright orange flames into the sky as they roar. Kuroo mutters under his breath, “Please get something easy, please get something easy...”

“And Hogwart’s own Oikawa Tooru--”

Leagues of silver and green leap to their feet, screaming and applauding that all other sound is drowned out. It suffocates every other thought, floods Akaashi’s head with ringing. He almost doesn’t hear Bokuto’s announcement.  

“And finally, our fourth champion Bokuto Koutarou will be tracking a unicorn.”

Akaashi’s heart sinks.

Yaku, Suga, and Daichi cheer, along with some sparse clapping from a few others but it’s pathetically weak in comparison. Snickers break out amongst the students. Daishou looks positively giddy. A few boos and, _“Go home, faker!_ ” and “ _Cheater Champion!_ ” are louder through the mix.

Bokuto looks entirely defeated.

“ _Enough_ ,” Headmaster Nekomoata says firmly, cutting off other protests. “The rules of this Task are simple…”

Akaashi is ready to call it quits now. Drop out of school, transfigure into owls and flee the country. Kuroo can keep up on broom. They’ll forage in the wilderness, invent new names, disguise themselves as muggles. Anything to get Bokuto away from the whispered giggling. Anything to get that horrible, lost look off Bokuto’s face.

Kuroo drops his head into his hands. “The _unicorn_.”

“Of all the options,” Akaashi says bitterly. “Of all the options he got stuck with a unicorn.”

“We’re doomed,” Kuroo bemoans. “That was our _worst_ case scenario.”

Akaashi knows they researched unicorns, knows they armed Bokuto with basic information and a plan, but now his mind is blank with panic. He doesn’t like how Bokuto seems suddenly smaller than the other champions, his shoulders hunched and eyes downcast.

“Now, for the main event!” Headmaster Nekomata finishes with a flourish of his wand. The portkeys alight and start to shake, activated.

Headmaster Nekomata holds up three fingers.

“Three!”

Bokuto clutches the portkey to his chest, looks up Akaashi. His eyes are wide. Afraid.  

“Two!”

Kuroo is counting down with the crowd. Daichi, Suga, Yaku, and him shake the banner vigorously and shout Bokuto's name. Akaashi doubts they’re heard over the roars for other champions, but Bokuto smiles at them anyway. He gives a weak wave.

“ _One!_ ”

Spiraling white beams engulf Bokuto’s smiling face, his extended fingers, his broad frame. He’s whisked off. Gone. And while the cheering still continues around him, for Akaashi it’s suddenly too quiet. Too cold.

Kuroo stills. Akaashi feels sick and sinks into his seat.

Akaashi tastes his own lips. But nothing of Bokuto lingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa honestly your comments and feedback mean the world to me and thank you all for being so nice?? 
> 
> Thank you so much!!!


	4. The First Task (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto crashes into the first task, uncertain and afraid. Never has he needed his friends more than in this moment, but Kuroo and Akaashi have problems of their own. New enemies and threats arise, and perhaps not everything is as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, remember how I said I'd update faster and then this update took like, twice as long as last time?? OTL things have been sort of INSANELY HECTIC for these past few months, but I swear I'll get back into the routine of things!! thank you for your patience and your kindness, it means the world to me<3
> 
> Also these next couple chapters are going to be a little darker. If spiders really freak you out stop at "A soft exhale grazes over the back of his neck." and then start again at "The thundering chase fades away"

Spinning and spinning and spinning-- white and black and forest green-- cracked with narrow stripes of brown, splashed with bright autumn leaves, swirled with springy moss, flashing with jarring patches of a cloud-dulled sun-- Bokuto tumbles and tumbles down down  _ down _ \-- 

He hits the forest floor chest first and the breath is ripped from his lungs. He coughs into mossy earth, he curls inward. He gasps and pants and wheezes.  

_Breathe_ , _have to_ _breathe_ , Bokuto thinks. _Everyone’s watching_. 

He squeezes his eyes shut.  _ Inhale _ . Oxygen tames the swirling in his head. _ Exhale _ . His blood courses strength through his veins.  _ Inhale _ . Pain screams throughout his torso, the edges of his chestplate dig into his skin. Bokuto can already feel bruises throbbing.  _ Exhale _ . 

Bokuto blinks and the world has stopped spinning. Bokuto heaves himself up on shaking knees.  _ Inhale _ . His ribs stab with pain and he bites back a cry.  _ Exhale _ .

And then,  _ Keiji’s watching. _

Bokuto steels his nerves. He rises to his feet and stretches out the ache despite his muscles’ protest. He shoots a smile for the audience, then realizes he doesn’t know where to look and tries to cover it with a cough that makes his ribs stretch and sear. He moans, stumbles, hands fumbling and grasping onto a tree trunk for support. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

Inhale. 

_ “We’re lucky,” Akaashi had said. His head rested on Bokuto’s shoulder, clingy the night before the Task. “You’ve been in the Forbidden Forest countless times. You’ll be fine.”  _

_ “Just pretend we’re there with you,” Kuroo added, his hand curled around Bokuto’s. “Just around the corner.”  _

Exhale. 

The churning inside him settles. The pain recedes.  _ Just around the corner. _

Bokuto takes in his surroundings. Fog sinks over the forest now, thick and suffocating. The tips of narrow, spindling trees disappear into it. The sun is completely smothered by it. Even sound seems absorbed by this weighed fog and all Bokuto can hear is his own breathing. 

Just around the corner. Right.

Bokuto stands up straight. He’s hunting a unicorn. Hunting a  _ unicorn _ . Bokuto remembers his Care of Magical Creatures classes and can’t help but feel like he’s drawn the short end of the stick. Cornish Pixies are devilish, Hippogriffs incredibly proud, Fire Crabs dangerous and deadly, but unicorns? Even the most capable witches and wizards struggle to come into contact with creatures as majestic and distrustful. Bokuto purses his lips, feeling doubt curl in his stomach. 

Inhale.

_ “Centaur tracks and unicorn tracks look similar,” Akaashi had admitted. He traced the diagrams in his textbooks for Bokuto to see. “But unicorn prints are fainter. They tread light and fast. They like to hang around sacred places. Strong magics. Abandoned witches havens, fairy rings-- that’s why there are so many in the forest. Hogwarts is filled with old magic. ”  _

_ “Our best bet is looking for unicorn hair,” Kuroo had said. “We see it all the time out there. It’s all gold and glittery, catches on bushes and branches and stuff. If you can follow that you might be able to find the unicorn’s layer..”  _

Exhale. 

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Bokuto draws his wand. 

“ _ Lumos _ .” 

The forest floor is bathed in warmth. Tiny will-o’-the-wisps dive behind leaves and tree branches at the intrusion. A few fairies duck behind mushroom caps. Bokuto scans the shrubbery for strands of glitter, thin trails of honey-gold, and yields nothing. 

Bokuto frowns and trudges forward.  

He isn’t used to the Forbidden Forest being this quiet. There should be the rumble of centaur hooves in the distance, the shuffling of gnomes underfoot, fairies hissing amongst the leaves, bowtruckles leaping from tree to tree-- Even Kuroo and Akaashi’s bickering would be comforting at this point. 

_ Maybe the Forest has been cleared out a bit for the Task _ , Bokuto thinks idly. A relatively empty forest would lower the chances of any fantastic beasts getting caught between a champion and their target. Bokuto thinks it is probably best to be considerate of the magical wildlife, but the silence feels sinister. Like a weight pressed onto Bokuto’s shoulders. 

Bokuto hums a to himself as he scans the branches and bushes. Something soft. Just loud enough to cover the sounds of his own pulse and breathing. The underbrush gets thicker as he wanders. The trees become older and greyer. Bokuto’s song grows strained has he finds himself hiking over bushes that have woven themselves into knots, trees that have twisted roots like thick-knuckled hands clasped together, and branches embracing The fog gets denser, colder. Bokuto tries not to be reminded of the horror movies he’s seen during summers at home. He checks behind him regularly and forces himself not to jump at every twig-snap.

He invents his own conversations as he trudges onward. He thinks of Kuroo dryly explaining that he’s seen plenty of muggle horror movies and how dumb and unrealistic they are. Kuroo would explain that Bokuto had no reason to be afraid of some creepy fog and probably pat him on the back for reassurance. Akaashi would be unfamiliar with horror movies and would pout quietly about it until Kuroo or Bokuto acknowledged him. He’d then roll his eyes, pretend he’s better than knowing _all that_ _muggle nonsense_ in that cute, stubborn way of his. 

Bokuto is smiling, thinking of Akaashi’s embarrassed blush and Kuroo’s muffled sniggering and then-- footsteps.  

Bokuto leaps back. His heart races so fast it feels strained, like it’s stretching out his chest. He raises his wand. More footsteps-- rolling against the earth, nearby shrubs quivering, leaves rustling like a threat. His hand trembles. The light from his wand bobbles, casts dark and strange shadows across the landscape. 

“Hello?” Bokuto calls and winces. Classic horror movie mistake. 

_ Crack _ . A branch splinters. The blood roars in his ears like thunder. Is this it? Is this who is coming after him? Was this the moment they had been waiting for? Come to strike now that Bokuto was isolated and all but defenseless? 

He takes a step backward and a  _ shriek _ splits the air.

Bokuto turns on his heel, spearing his wand at the sound. A huddled Pygmy Puff stares back at him, doe-like eyes shot with horror. Tiny fluffy body struggling against the bindings of thick, silvery spider-webbing.  

“ _ Merlin _ ,” Bokuto breathes, slumping over, holding a hand over his straining, still-racing heart. “You scared me, buddy.” 

The Pygmy Puff shrieks again, this time less piercing, and writhes in her trap. 

Bokuto crouches and attempts to untangle her. He takes care to pry the sticky strings gently, trying not rip out any of her soft white fur. 

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Bokuto asks. “It’s dangerous for a little guy like you to be wandering alone.”

The spider web is stubborn, and she squeals when Bokuto tries to tug the webs any harder. Bokuto raises his wand and her little golden feet thrash as she gives a protesting cry.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Bokuto eases. “I’m not going to hurt you.”  

The Pygmy Puff’s round body expands and deflates with rapid breath. Bokuto strokes her silky fur in reassurance. 

“I’m gonna get you outta here,” he promises. “Watch.” 

Bokuto aims at a thread caught around the Puff’s ankle. “ _ Diffindo! _ ” 

The web snaps free. She whines fearfully at the sound. 

“Shh, shh, easy,” Bokuto soothes. “You’re alright. See? You’re okay.” 

Her eyes are wide, hairs all standing up on end in alarm. He can see her tiny muscles twitching, belly and chest convulsing as she hyperventilates. 

Bokuto’s throat dries. His mouth tastes like fear. 

“What is it?” he asks, helplessly. “Something hurt? What’s wrong?” 

She thrashes again. She gnashes her tiny teeth. Bokuto backs off, brows furrowed with both concern and confusion.

“What? What is it? What are you--” 

And then he hears it. Breathing. Faint. Barely audible over the Pygmy Puff’s panicked noises. A dark, predatory presence looms over his shoulder. 

A soft exhale grazes over the back of his neck. 

Bokuto pivots. His wand arm crashes into a thick, hairy body. He scrambles to his feet, stands over a spider the size of a school-desk, its many legs writhing. Bokuto fights down a dry-heave.  _ Acromantula _ . 

His wand is slippery with sweat. “ _ Arania Exumai! _ ” 

The acromantula blasts backward. It’s curled body rolls limp through the trees into two more charging giant spiders. They hiss and climb over their fallen friend, pincers open and snapping at Bokuto hungrily.   

Bokuto sends curse after curse, dowsing the trees in scarlet flashes of magic. He checks over his shoulders, turning in full circle, and acromantula have him surrounded on all sides. They come in swarms, scurrying forward at the commotion like the chaos calls to them. Bokuto points his wand in every direction, but for every spider he shoots down two more spring up. They clamor over each other in horrendous frenzy. Their eager bodies squirming, their greedy mouths ready to feast, their red eyes gleaming and starved. 

Bokuto swears loudly. So much for the forest being cleared out. 

The Pygmy Puff screams. 

Bokuto yanks her free, patches of her fur rip out and she screams again, shrill with pain. He sends a curse over his shoulder. 

“Come on,” he says. He tucks her in the breast of his robes and runs. He shoots more curses, trying to forge a trail through their teeming, ever-growing horde. They scrape past him with poison-wet pincers. Their long hairy legs pull on his pant-legs, tug on his robes. He fights not to stumble. Hundreds of mad-red eyes bore into him, ready to kill, destroy,  _ devour _ \-- 

Bokuto smashes through their mass of bodies, stomping on exoskeletons, snapping through limbs, even as his own body heaves with revulsion. They crunch underfoot. Their sticky blood seeps into his shoes.  

And then one pounces. Thick spider legs wrap around Bokuto’s middle. He topples, his lower half pinned down by the acromantula’s body. He’s dragged. They make quick work of him, splattering his feet with oozing, fresh webbing. Their work as instinctive as it is precise and he is bound up to the knee. The Pygmy Puff yelps as she’s crushed between his chest and the ground. He keeps an arm clutched over his chest, securing her under the bare protection of his robes.

Bokuto twists his torso, wiping smaller spiders from his face and elbowing away larger ones that snap for his throat. He aims his wand and bellows, “ _ EXPULSO! _ ” 

The horde blasts backward. The kickback slams Bokuto with scorching wind, blowing back bits of stray bark, fragments of singed leaves-- He squints as he aims his wand behind him.

“ _ EXPULSO! _ ” 

Trees snap back like twigs, grass uproots in heaps, chunks of earth are blasted into the sky. Acromantula spasm as they’re struck, their limbs curl inward stiff and lifeless. They roll like wads of paper in the wind, and crash into tree trunks with a cracking, wet sound.

Bokuto scrambles to his feet, kicking and cursing off the strangling webbing. The Pygmy Puff’s frightened cries are muffled in his robes. 

He shoots down stragglers with quick  _ Arania Exumais _ . His lip bleeds and fills his mouth with the taste of salt and rust. His ankle sears with pain, his face is burned with his own spells’ kickback, but he pushes on. Bokuto runs. Runs until all he can hear are his own footsteps and the pounding pulse in his head. Runs until his legs blaze and wobble. Runs until his lungs shrink and refuse him strength to push on.

The thundering chase fades away and he slows, falters. He falls to his knees, panting, blood drooling out his mouth and dribbling down his chin. The silence he’s greeted with now seems almost merciful. He wheezes, spitting out dirt and wiping the blood from his chin with his sleeve. One hand still clutched over his chest. 

_ Don’t vomit _ , he thinks blearily, blinking tears out of his eyes.  _ Everyone’s watching. _

The Pygmy Puff squirms against his hold, making small, protesting sounds. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Bokuto says, still breathless. He removes his arm and lets her jump free.

The Puff shimmies, shaking off dirt and leaves caught in her coat. The spider webs cling and mat her fur in dirty patches. She bites at them, growling irritably. 

Bokuto gives a hoarse laugh. “Nearly got eaten alive and it’s the dirt you’re worried about?” 

She squirms, clearly uncomfortable, and Bokuto slides over, sitting beside her instead of kneeling. 

“Come here,” he says, coaxing the Puff into his lap. “Let me try.” 

He softens the matted fur with conjured water, then runs his fingers through it to strain away webbing and dirt. She hums at the gentle grooming. 

“There you go,” Bokuto says once he’s finished. “All better.” 

She shakes off the excess water. Bokuto giggles as he’s splattered. 

“Hey,  _ hey! _ ” he says, amused.

Dry, and seemingly pleased, she nuzzles Bokuto’s calf muscle in gratitude. Bokuto ruffles her fondly, but his smile soon sinks into a sigh. Fresh dread pools in his stomach. 

“Haven’t seen any unicorns hanging around, have you?” Bokuto asks halfheartedly. 

The Pgymy Puff blinks at him, head cocked to the side. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bokuto dismisses with a wave of his hand. “I’ll figure it out.” 

She turns to his leg again and prods it with her nose twice. Distinct and separate, as though she were knocking on it like one would a door. 

“What?” Bokuto blinks. “There a unicorn in my _ leg? _ ” 

She gives an irritated sniff and prods again. Bokuto allows himself to be adjusted this time and he rolls his leg over, exposing vibrant cut, deep into his ankle. 

“ _ Shit _ .” He should have known he couldn’t have come out of that unscathed. It stings now that he’s seen it, as if his body only just remembered it was supposed to feel pain when wounded. The bleeding has been somewhat stanched by Bokuto’s jeans, but he’s already lost most of the feeling in his foot. He’ll have to bind it before he can walk again.  

The Pygmy Puff waddles forward and presses her nose into the open wound. 

“ _ Hey! _ ” Bokuto hisses as pain shoots up his leg. “What was  _ that _ for?” 

Bokuto scoots away from her, betrayed. She follows adamantly, and he waves her off. 

“Don’t,” Bokuto says. “That  _ hurts _ .” 

He settles into a more comfortable position. But even that small movement jostles the cut enough to get it bleeding again. Bokuto grimances. 

“Dammit,” he mutters.  _ Bandages _ , of course they didn’t think to smuggle in  _ bandages  _ of all things. Bokuto moves to tear some fabric from the bottom of his robes and the Puff takes advantage of the distraction. She presses her nose into his torn ankle insistently.  

“Ah!” Bokuto cries, leg jerking in surprise. “Stop  _ doing  _ that!”

The Pygmy Puff’s hairs stand on end, defensive. She snaps her little jaws at him, small doe-like eyes suddenly fierce. 

“I rescue you, and this is how you repay me?” Bokuto says, sounding more hurt than angry. “I thought we were friends!” 

She huffs, disgruntled. She headbutts his calf. Lets out a whining, animal noise. 

“Don’t do  _ that _ ,” Bokuto says, conflicted. He covers his face with his hands “Just-- Fine. Okay, fine. You can smell my ankle you weirdy-weirdo.” 

He braces himself and she gives a satisfied hum. She returns to his cut ankle, her little yellow nose rubbing into it until it stings and he bites back a pained hiss. 

And-- inexplicably-- The Pygmy Puff’s nose starts to glow. Soft and golden light spills onto the woodland, over his dirty jeans and damaged flesh. 

It’s all he can do to not kick her in surprise. “What? What’s going-- what--”

His vision is lost for a moment, a flourish of pale gold light filling his gaze, washing over his body. Bokuto blinks once and it’s gone in an instant. 

The Pygmy Puff isn’t glowing anymore, and shuffles back. Bokuto’s ankle-- before torn and stinging and bleeding-- is completely healed. The skin is healthy, smooth, without even a scar to prove it happened. The numbness in his toes has vanished, the ache in his overworked legs eased, the bruising on his ribs from his bad-landing ebbed away. Even his sliced lip seals itself shut. His mouth tastes like his own, normal and free of blood. 

The Pygmy Puff wiggles at him expectantly. 

“That was amazing!” Bokuto cries. He scoops the Puff into his arms, kissing her furry white face. “I didn’t know Pygmy Puff’s had healing cuddles!” 

She snorts in a way that somehow reminds him of Akaashi and he laughs. He lets her climb onto his shoulder and settle against his neck.

“You better stick with me,” Bokuto says. “We wouldn’t want you to get into anymore trouble.” 

The Pygmy Puff coos, and Bokuto figures that means she agrees.

 

* * *

 

  
  


Akaashi releases his breath at last and it makes a grotesque, guttural sound. Kuroo thumps him on the back, though his face is a telling shade of green. Bokuto’s escape had been narrow.  _ Too  _ narrow. 

Akaashi had predicted that the early portion of the Task would be tedious. Not even the excitable commentary from Terushima Yuuji brightens the slow pace of four champions wandering the woods somewhat aimlessly. Alisa, at least, looks like she knows what she’s doing; her eyes are alight and actively searching. Ushijima scowls as he marches, brushing off fairies that jab at him and ignoring gnomes that latch onto his legs. Oikawa’s sleek confidence wears thin now that he’s alone and Akaashi notes his shaking hands, the sallowness of his cheeks.

Bokuto, however, just looks lost. And after he accidentally stumbles his way into a nest of giant, man-eating spiders, Akaashi can’t help but feel doubt creeping in his veins. 

“He made it out,” Akaashi mutters. “He made it out, that’s what matters.” 

Kuroo nods reassuringly. A coarse laugh breaks out on the stands to their left.

“Your man-candy can’t even tell a unicorn and a Pygmy Puff apart!” Daishou taunts at Akaashi and Kuroo. His green Oikawa-badge gleams on his chest, matching the malicious glint in his eye. “So  _ menacing _ .” 

Kuroo stands abruptly, knee just missing giving Akaashi a good blow to the jaw. He cups his hands over his mouth and shouts, “ _ Go suck a gnome’s testicle, Daishou.” _

Daishou winds up for a retort but a sharp, “ _ Sit down, Suguru, _ ” from Iwaizumi Hajime cuts him off. He sits, settling for sticking his tongue out at them instead. 

“That prat,” Yaku curses, gripping the silver Omnioculars around his neck like they’ve wronged him greatly. “At least our champion is  _ doing  _ something.” 

Kuroo settles back into his seat, both his shoulders and lips tense with irritation. Akaashi doesn’t point out that the other champions seem somewhat comprehensive in their tracking. Ushijima shakes off fairies, climbing up thick trees to look for Pixie nests. Alisa is slunk over an ember-strewn trail, coupled with deep spear-like footsteps. Oikawa covers ground quickly with some kind of hover-charm on his shoes. 

“Blimey, we’re off to a rough start,” Daichi mutters. 

Kuroo straightens at the sound of his voice. He turns to Daichi, sitting on the row just above them. Kuroo puts a firm hand on Daichi’s knee. 

“He’ll pull through,” Kuroo assures, chin held high; his voice deeper than usual. “I have been training with him. He’s super prepared.” 

Kuroo and Daichi share a tender kind of smile and Akaashi is overcome with a surge of rage. Bokuto could have  _ died  _ just then and Kuroo decides this is the time for _ flirting?  _

Yaku rubs Akaashi’s back, sensing his distress. “Deep breaths, Keiji. He’s fine.” 

Akaashi begrudgingly obeys, knowing this isn’t the time or place to lecture Kuroo about his terrible courting habits. He buries his face in his hands. Breathe,  _ breathe _ . 

Down in the lower stands, reporter Tendou Satori is strolling through the rabble of students. He scribbles on his parchment excitedly, hounding on anyone that so much as catches his eye. His photographer, Yachi Hitoka, follows. Her camera flashes and she mutters rather bleak apologies as they pass. 

“Oi, have a load of those two,” Yaku says, jabbing a thumb toward the pair in a thinly veiled attempt to distract Akaashi. “We could be in the  _ Daily Prophet! _ ” 

Akaashi frowns. “They shouldn’t be here. Headmaster Nekoma’s going to be furious when he finds out he’s been interviewing minors.”

Akaashi and Yaku turn toward the judge’s podium where Headmaster Nekomata sits. The Headmaster is facing forward, his back to Tendou’s illegal interviews, and his is attention much too invested in observing the champions. Occasionally he leans over to mumble something in the Minister of Magic’s ear, who makes a great show of nodding in agreement each time. 

Yaku shrugs. “Looks like Nekomata’s too busy to deal with it now.”

Akaashi nods grimly. Tendou interrogates a frightened-looking first year who bursts into tears when she can’t answer his relentless questioning fast enough. Tendou gives a great sigh, as if the  _ student  _ had been the one being bothersome, and marches on. Yachi pauses briefly to hand the first year a tissue before bounding after.  

“He seems friendly that one,” Yaku says dryly and Akaashi snorts. 

“Oh, I know  _ him _ ,” Daichi says, following Yaku and Akaashi’s gazes. “He’s that bastard at  _ Tendou Talks _ . Some rubbish gossip article in the  _ Daily Prophet _ .”

“Better no news, than news from him,” Suga agrees. “Once my aunt enchanted her tea set to sing when her herbals got too cold to drink and sold it to a muggle by mistake. Harmless really, but it was a slow news week. He goes off accuses her of running some underground muggle-baiting scheme. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t show her face in public for weeks...” 

“We best not mess with him,” Kuroo decides. “We’ve got enough trouble as it is.” 

Kuroo shoots Daichi a quick glance, searching for approval, and Akaashi has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Tendou shouts into a student’s ear so loudly they leap out of their seat and send their bag of Professor Petro’s Self-Popping Popcorn skyward. Popcorn rains on the entire row to a mix of gasping and giggling, kernels puff to life in their laps and at their feet. Akaashi agrees that the less Tendou knows about Bokuto the better.  

“Bokuto’s up and on the move!” Terushima Yuuji announces, his magically enhanced voice  recapturing their attention. “Reckon that ankle healed in record time! Didn’t know Bokuto was any good at Healing Charms….” 

Akaashi’s brow quirks in interest. Bokuto  _ wasn’t  _ any good at Healing Charms. Had he cast one? He looks to Kuroo, who shrugs, not having seen either. 

Bokuto tests out his newly repaired ankle on-screen. His laugh is unheard as the Pygmy Puff nuzzles his cheek lovingly, but Akaashi feels it. Warm and familiar, like a hum in his chest. 

_ Snap, snap, snap!  _

Akaashi flinches and they are smothered in a swarm of camera flashes. Akaashi squints through the intrusion and meets Tendou’s frenzied gaze. 

“Ah, here they are!”  Tendou says, unmistakable greed in his expression as he looms over them. “My favorite,  _ favorite  _ underdogs! Yach, get good ones of these guys, eh?” 

Yachi’s camera keeps flashing. Akaashi turns away, squeezing his eyes shut. Yaku pulls his hood down to his chin. Suga tosses their makeshift banner over his and Daichi’s heads. Kenma makes a noise of protest as they join him in hiding and mumbles something about the disturbance losing him a chance to beat his high score on  _ Exploding Snap: Solitaire _ .  

“We’re not taking questions,” Kuroo says, hand covering his watering eyes. 

“No need to fret, no fret!” Tendou chimes, shaking his head. “Nothing personal, just a few easy-peasy things! Isn’t that right, Yach?” 

“Easy-peasy,” Yachi repeats miserably.

“We said no,” Daichi says, though his authoritative tone loses something when he’s covered head-to-toe in scarf material. 

Tendou pouts with a fat, pathetic lower lip. He shakes his head, incredulous. 

“But you’re the stars of the show!” he insists, throwing his arms out in grand gesture. “Rebellious, underdog cheerleaders. Refusing to follow the crowd and cheer for the by far more popular-- and how shall we say-- more  _ appealing  _ champion? That and your last minute craftsmanship,” Tendou nudges the banner with his foot, “it’s just what headlines are made of!”  

“No thanks!” Suga chirps from under the yarny fabric. “We’re good.” 

They nod together in agreement, and even Kenma grunts his approval. A shadow flickers across Tendou’s face. Something resentful. His tactic shifts.

Tendou twirls his quill between his fingers, tapping his chin with it. He shrugs. “Well alright. I suppose I’ll just have to ask someone else for credible information on Bokuto Koutarou.”

Akaashi jaw clenches. Tendou’s lips twist into a wry smile. 

“Ah! I know,” Tendou says, holding his quill in the air. “Who was that friend you were speaking with earlier? What was it? A gnome testicle? Is that what you called him?” 

Yaku peeks out from under his hood, alarmed. Daichi and Suga’s heads turn to look at each other underneath the banner and Akaashi can see Kuroo’s previous resolve weakening. He shoots Akaashi questioning glances. 

Akaashi chews the inside of his cheek, thinking fast. A list of solutions flicker through his mind, one after another after another after another-- and then--  

“His name is Daishou Suguru,” Akaashi says, not missing a beat. “And I’m sure would be delighted to answer your questions.” 

Tendou blinks. Kuroo looks as though he’s been slapped. Yaku audibly gasps and Suga kicks him quiet. 

“Is that so?” Tendou says, words placed and careful. 

Akaashi nods. “Absolutely.” 

Tendou opens his mouth to say something else and Akaashi interrupts. 

“Though you might run into some trouble,” Akaashi adds, tone impassive. “Daishou’s the bragging type. He’ll be sure to write home his mother to look for him in the  _ Daily Prophet  _ if you interview him-- But then, I suppose she’d have to report you.”

“ _ Report _ me?” Tendou repeats, color draining from his face. 

Akaashi fights against the smirk pulling on the corners of his mouth. Kuroo catches on, realisation flaring in his face like a struck match.

“Of course,” Kuroo continues for him smoothly. “She’d be required to. Her being on the Hogwarts School Board and all. Can’t have reporters thinking it’s acceptable to bombard students without consent from their parents or professors.” 

Akaashi nods again. “She’d have to tell the headmaster. Probably have you banned from the school premises.” 

“Might get the Ministry to have your article shutdown too,” Kuroo says, shrugging. “Make an example of you so all the other reporters know to bugger off.” 

Tendou’s lips are still smiling, but there’s no pleasantness to it. He locks eyes with Akaashi, challenging. Akaashi maintains their stare-off, keeping his face blank and unreadable. There’s a glint of something dangerous in Tendou’s gaze. Akaashi’s stomach churns.  

“You aren’t going to make very many  _ friends _ with that kind of attitude,” Tendou says, his words falsely bright and cheery. He turns this fake smile on Kuroo. “And Bokuto Koutarou is going to need friends, isn’t he?” 

“He has us,” Kuroo says at once. 

“Hell yeah he does!” Yaku says, slightly muffled by his hood. 

Akaashi can’t withhold his smirk now. Tendou’s expression goes cold. He draws up to full height, tucking his quill in his robes stiffly.

“I’d be careful who you make your enemy,” he says, voice low and threatening. His gaze lingers on Akaashi, his expression cold. “Word travels fast these days.”  

Akaashi swallows. Tendou strolls off, taking Yachi by the elbow and tugging her along after him. She keeps snapping photos, the angle slightly tilted.

Kuroo and Akaashi exchange glances, but neither of them say it. Akaashi looks to the larger-than-life Bokuto projection, still wandering the Forbidden Forest with no clear plan. 

_ Hurry, Koutarou _ , he thinks.  _ Think of something. Anything _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual disney princess bokuto needs an actual disney princess sidekick sorry i don't make the rules 
> 
> your comments and feedback make my day!! thank you so much<3
> 
> ((hmu at cutiekeiji on tumblr!!))


	5. The First Task (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto crashes into the first task, uncertain and afraid. Never has he needed his friends more than in this moment, but Kuroo and Akaashi have problems of their own. New enemies and threats arise, and perhaps not everything is as it seems... Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOUR EMAIL DIDNT GOOF, I DID UPDATE TWICE IN ONE DAY. The chapter and Task got hella long, and I thought splitting it would make it easier to read!! 
> 
> Again, dark themes and some swears.

The further Bokuto gets from the Acromantula nest, the thinner the forest gets. Mist still weighs upon him, coating everything in a blue-grey feel, but he no longer has to hike over tangled bushes or tree-roots as thick as cobras. Bokuto would be grateful for it, but there’s still no hint of any unicorn anywhere. No footprints, no hair, or anything. He chews on his thumbnail, trying to fight off the panic churning low in his stomach. 

“How do you even  _ catch  _ a unicorn?” Bokuto asks the Puff, currently perched on his shoulder. “Do you know?” 

The Pygmy Puff pips at him. Bokuto nods knowingly. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Bokuto says and he frowns in discouragement. 

Bokuto rubs a line across his chin as he tries to think. He supposes he can keep scouring the forest for unicorn hair, but the more he thinks about it the more impractical the plan seems. The Forbidden Forest is far too vast for Bokuto to search all of it within the two-hour limit. And even if he does _ find  _ a trail to follow, it could be incomplete or he might follow in the wrong direction and end up twice as lost. 

Bokuto massages his temples. The Puff licks the side of his face with her slimy tongue.. 

“Agh gross!” Bokuto cries, squirming away. “Stop, stop!” 

Bokuto pushes her face off him and she whimpers. 

“Ohh, don’t make me feel bad!” Bokuto complains. “I don’t like gross kisses!” 

_ Keiji doesn’t give gross kisses _ , Bokuto thinks and is immediately embarrassed at his own impulsive thought. The kissed half of his mouth tingles at the memory and he fights down a blush. 

The Pygmy Puff whimpers again, louder this time.

“ _ Fine _ ,” Bokuto surrenders. “Just don’t get your germs in my mouth.” 

The Puff laps Bokuto’s cheek like an overly excited dog and Bokuto giggles as goosebumps rise along his skin. He shivers.

“Tickles,” he says. “And your breath stinks!” 

The Puff cheerfully ignores him and Bokuto scratches under her fuzzy white chin. 

“I guess you’re still pretty cute though,” he admits. “But you’re gonna need a name.” 

She stops her barrage of kisses as though the idea alarms her and Bokuo laughs.

“Oh don’t worry!” he says. “I’m a great namer! I named all the school owls! Well, almost all of them. Akaashi named one. But that was only because I was trying to get him to cheer up.” 

The Puff nibbles Bokuto’s earlobe, seemingly assured. Bokuto continues. 

“There’s Tiggles, Tia, Toshi, Sir Hootington, Tilli, Tog,” Bokuto lists as he walks, counting off on his fingers. He gives the Pygmy  Puff an inquiring look. “Like any of those?” 

The Puff sticks out her tongue. Bokuto nods seriously.  

“You’re definitely more of a Susan,” Bokuto concludes as if that had been the obvious answer all along. “Susan sounds reliable.”

The Puff sniffs. Bokuto decides it’s a sign of approval.

“Susan it is!” he says, beaming. 

A sharp whistle cuts off Bokuto’s next sentence. Yellow fireworks burst above him, glittering through the canopy of trees. Stray sparks shoot through the branches. 

Bokuto deflates. One of the other three champions has already apprehended their creature. He’s running out of time. 

Bokuto tugs his at his hair anxiously. “Susan! What am I going to do?” 

Susan clings to Bokuto’s robes, squeaking as she’s jostled. 

“You’d have to be super fast to catch a unicorn! And strong!” Bokuto adds, starting to pace. “ _ Really _ strong and, like, super good at magic. And  _ really  _ powerful.”

Bokuto’s scowl deepens. “But the only thing as fast or strong or magical as a unicorn is--is-- a unicorn!” 

Susan wrinkles her nose. Bokuto pinches his brow, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I wish the unicorn was chasing  _ me _ ,” Bokuto bemoans. “A unicorn could probably catch me in no time.”  

Bokuto jolts.  _ That’s it.  _

“ _ Susan! _ ” he cries. “I have to have the unicorn chase _ me! _ ” 

Susan loses her footing and slips off Bokuto’s shoulder with a scream. Bokuto ducks to catch her. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Bokuto says, adjusting the Puff back in place. Her doe-like eyes are surprisingly frightening when angry. “Got excited.” 

Susan punishes him with a sharp nip to his ear, but Bokuto can barely feel it. He thrums with his stroke of brilliance. New energy floods his veins and his hands shake with excitement. 

“Come on,” Bokuto says. “We have a unicorn to catch!”

 

* * *

  
  


“Well, well, looks like Bokuto Koutarou is finally getting in the game,” Terushima Yuuji says, voice carrying over the stands. “Though I don’t know  _ what  _ he’s getting at.” 

Frankly, Akaashi doesn’t either. Bokuto rummages through the underbrush on his knees, pulling up stalks of giggling mushrooms and shoving them in his pockets. Dirt is smeared across his forehead and Akaashi itches to wipe it away. 

Kuroo has stolen Yaku’s Omnioculars. He spins the gears and the silver tubes extend, widening as he zooms in.  

“Blimey, he looks like a madman,” Kuroo mutters. “Alisa’s just been sent for, she’s getting picked up with her Fire Crab now--” 

Akaashi knows  _ that  _ already. He wonders if Kuroo will forgive him if he wrestles the Omnioculars from his hands. 

“Ushijima’s spotted a Pixie!” Terushima yells. The crowd swells with him, an audible  _ swoosh  _ as all their attention turns to Ushijima’s screen.  “Bad move trying to chase it though…”

There’s a mass of noise from Durmstrang’s section. They bang magic clappers together that shoot confetti and fireworks upon each connection. A few of them hold signs bearing Ushijima’s scowling face that flashes, then swirls into a second image of him--still scowling-- but from a side angle. 

“Ushijima’s near a nest,” Kuroo says darkly. He flips a switch at the bottom of the Omnioculars and the mechanics whirl. The lenses triple in size. “There’s another Pixie on his right. Hasn't spotted it yet though...” 

Akaashi feels his heart drop, hope dwindling low. Suga and Daichi exchange worried glances. Yaku throws an arm around Akaashi, giving him a warm squeeze. Even Kenma has appeared from under the banner; his hair ruffled, attention still mostly invested in his game of Exploding Snap, but occasionally he glances at the screen in concern. A tiny pout appearing on his lips. 

“He’s going to be dead last at this rate,” Daichi says, carding a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

Akaashi wants to kick him.  

“Do _ I  _ know anything about Bokuto Koutarou?”  Daishou’s voice breaks through the crowd. He stands tall over his peers, eyes all glittering mischief. 

Yachi raises her camera, but Tendou shoves it back down hastily. “As an  _ anonymous _ source, of course,” Tendou emphasizes.  

“Right, right,” Daishou says, waving his hand dismissively. “As an  _ anonymous source _ .” 

“Oh god,” Kuroo groans. 

“Dear Merlin,” Yaku mutters. 

“This is the  _ last  _ thing we needed,” Akaashi adds miserably. 

They aren’t the only ones to notice. The heads of students turn to watch, their curious whispers gather. The Headmasters’ are still too involved with the Task to look over.

“First of all, he’s ugly,” Daishou says matter-of-factly. “It’s hard to tell because you’re distracted by that awful excuse of a hairdo, but when you look close he’s practically a troll!” 

Akaashi bites back a retort. Kuroo’s hands ball into fists. Snickers ripple through the stands. 

Tendou writes so fast it’s incredible the paper doesn’t tear. He nods encouragingly. 

“Really? What else?” Tendou asks. 

“He’s stupid too!” Daishou goes on. “Always gets the lowest marks in class. You can find rocks smarter than him. You’d think the Sorting Hat put him in Ravenclaw in as some kind of practical joke or something!”

More snickering. Yaku clamps a hand around Kuroo’s wrist to keep him from intervening. Akaashi’s clutches onto the wood of the bench until he can feel splinters digging into his nails.

“Yes, good, go on!” Tendou says. “Yach you take notes too!” 

He shoves a quill and parchment into her hands haphazardly and she gets to work, writing with shaking hands. 

“And he’s strange!” Daishou says. “No one likes him-- those two there. They’re the only ones who can stand being around him!”

Attention turns back to their small group, giggling and pointing. Suga hides his face in the yarny banner. Daichi wraps an arm over him and scowls at the onlookers as if daring them to say anything else. Kenma slouches lower into his seat.

“They’re  _ freaks _ ,” Daishou continues. “They’re  _ trash! _ A fatherless, arrogant half-blood and an orphaned blood-traitor who doesn’t even care for the aunt and uncle who took him in! Despicable, horrible people. Completely and utterly--” 

There’s a blast of violet light. A cool thrill washes over Akaashi, the spell shooting past him and hitting Daishou square in the chest. 

Akaashi flips around and-- miraculously, incredibly--  _ Kenma  _ stands. His yellow eyes are wide, glassy, and fiercely locked on Daishou. 

“Don’t,” he says, “talk about my friends that way.” 

Daishou opens his mouth again, but instead of speech, a loud, distinct  _ meow  _ comes out instead. 

The stands roar with laughter. Daishou clutches his throat, more panicked cat-noises issuing from him. Tendou’s dropped his quill, gaping rather stupidly. Daishou hisses. His arms flail in a panic, but everyone is either too dumbstruck or too overcome with giggles to help him. His face quickly becomes maroon in a mix of frustration and embarrassment. 

Kuroo whoops loudest of all.  

“Oi! What’s the matter Daishou? Cat got your tongue?” he taunts gleefully and even Akaashi laughs at that one. The sensation of smiling feels foreign after weeks without it. 

“That was incredible!” Yaku says wrapping Kenma in a tight hug. 

“Really excellent spell work!” Daichi commends. 

Kuroo shoves Yaku off, pinning Kenma to his chest in an airless embrace. “That’s my favorite Kenma! Look at you being a badass!” 

“Was nothing,” Kenma mutters, his usual sulkiness returning. Kuroo refuses to be weighed down, however, and he ruffles Kenma's hair affectionately. 

“You did it because he called me a freak, didn’t you? I knew you cared about me deep down in there!” Kuroo says. 

“Deep, deep,  _ deep _ , down there,” Kenma says, rolling his eyes, but Akaashi doesn’t miss the quirk of his lips. The tiny  _ pleased  _ color in his cheeks. 

Suga looks considerably less happy than the rest of them. His gaze follows Tendou, Yachi, and Daishou. Tendou is fidgety as he escorts Daishou out of the stands. He barks orders at Yachi when she can’t seem to find the right spell to reverse Daishou’s condition and checks over his shoulder every so often as if afraid he’s going to be arrested. Daishou is hunched over, ears a deep red. He and Tendou send them a last, vengeful look and stalk off. 

“We should have just answered his questions,” Suga says with an air of foreboding. “It couldn’t have been worse than whatever he’s cooking up now.” 

Yaku’s cheer fades. Kuroo swallows, his grip on Kenma loosening. Akaashi tries to push off the threatening fear. Daishou’s just a student. And what’s the worst Tendou could write? Akaashi makes a note to keep next issues of the  _ Daily Prophet _ hidden from Bokuto, just in case. 

“It’s too late to worry about that,” Daichi says, his voice firm. “Whatever it is, Koutarou can handle it.” 

When Suga doesn’t look reassured, Daichi laces their fingers together. He rubs the pad of his thumb over Suga’s knuckles and is met with a warm, dimpled  _ Suga  _ smile. 

Kuroo stills, watching them and gaping. The joy wiped from his face like he’s been slapped. 

Rumbling chants erupt from the Durmstrang section and their attention diverts back to Task. Ushijima has started casting spells, making haste after two blue Pixies. Nets spring from his wand, narrowly missing each time and latching onto branches and bushes instead. The Pixies cackle at Ushijima, sticking out their tongues. Ushijima scowls fiercer than ever. 

“Merlin, at this rate Koutarou is going to be dead last,” Yaku says, chewing bottom lip. The reflection of Ushijima’s chase in his eyes. 

Akaashi wishes he could refute that. Kuroo breaks from his trance, fumbling again with the Omnioculars and zooming in on Bokuto’s frame. Bokuto stands on his tiptoes, his wand between his teeth as he reaches for a hollow of fairy eggs while giggling mushrooms leap from his over-stuffed pockets. 

“That’s… an unusual strategy,” Daichi says. “What, does he think unicorns hole up in trees?” 

Akaashi wants to kick him, not sure if he’s angrier about the slight against Bokuto or for his nerve to hold Suga’s hand and give Kuroo that kicked-puppy look.

Suga’s lips twist in a frown. “Maybe he’s going to brew a potion?”

Kuroo and Akaashi look at one another doubtfully. They hadn’t gone over potions. Akaashi wracks his brain and no Unicorn Enticing recipes come to mind. 

Bokuto gives the Pygmy Puff a swift kiss before placing her on the ground. He begins snapping off mushroom caps and aligning them on the forest floor. The Pygmy Puff follows, sniffing the trail curiously. 

“ _ Tetsurou _ ,” Akaashi hisses, leaping to his feet. He bats at Kuroo’s arm and snatches the Omnioculars from his hands. Kuroo chokes a little as the neck-strap is pulled tight and their cheeks are smushed together. 

“Ow! What, what, what?” Kuroo asks, cheek rubbing against Akaashi’s as he speaks.

Akaashi snaps the gears and zooms in on Bokuto’s screen. He breaks into an involuntary grin. 

“He’s making a  _ fairy ring _ ,” Akaashi breathes. “Look!” 

He shoves the Omnioculars over and Kuroo’s jaw drops.

“A fairy ring?” Suga repeats. 

“Could that even work?” Yaku asks.

“I thought those were just some muggle myth,” Daichi adds. 

“They aren’t,” Akaashi says, turning to them, feeling flushed and victorious. “They give off powerful magical auras, attract other magics to it. They’re stronger if grown naturally, of course, but a built one would have a similar effect-- One ring might not be enough but--” 

Bokuto’s finished with the first ring. He sprinkles the fairy eggs on top the mushroom caps and a dim light solidifies the spell. He moves on and begins a second. 

“But if he has a whole bunch of them,” Kuroo finishes, looking at Akaashi in awe. Akaashi’s stretched with a grin. Kuroo beams back at him.

Yaku looks less jubilant. 

“Will it work though?” he presses. “He doesn’t have a lot of time.” 

“It’ll work,” Kuroo defends.

“It has to,” Akaashi agrees. 

Akaashi pretends there isn’t fear laced between his words.

 

* * *

  
  


“Stop eating the bait, Susan!” Bokuto says, tugging the mushroom from her mouth. The mushroom wiggles and hoots with fearful laughter as Bokuto places it back in formation. 

Susan pouts. 

“That’s not working on me,” Bokuto lectures. “You just ate, like, five of them!” 

Susan whimpers and Bokuto sticks his tongue out at her. 

“You can eat all the mushrooms when we’re done,” he promises, leaning down to pat her briefly before continuing. 

Susan, though still rather grouchy looking, hums and waddles after Bokuto as he finishes the tenth and final fairy ring. Bokuto scoops her up and places her back on his shoulder. 

“Now we have to hide,” he whispers, bringing a finger to his lips. “Come on.” 

Bokuto creeps behind a thick patch of bushes, whispering ‘pardon mes’ to the will o’ wisps huddled in them and pulling the hood of his robes over his head. Susan tucks herself between his neck and hood and waits. 

It occurs to Bokuto just how ridiculous he’s going to look if this doesn’t work. All his remaining time will be wasted, gambled away on a hunch. He tries to swallow down the fear slithering up his throat. How much time does he even have left? What if the other champions all wrap up before he does, is that an automatic fail? He hasn’t seen anymore finishing signals but it’s only a matter of time...

It grows colder. The mist becomes denser, greyer like a sunken stormcloud. Bokuto shivers; his muscles ache in effort to keep still and his fingers numb with the dropping temperature. Susan is warm though. His cheek and neck are sweaty with her body-heat as she snoozes on his shoulder. 

And then, footsteps. Slow and heavy. 

Bokuto holds his breath. 

The mist evaporates around the unicorn, shooed away by the unicorn’s glow. The air around them seems more alive. Vibrant. As if the unicorn breathes new magic into the woodland. Their solid gold hooves drop and the earth shudders beneath them as they approach.

Bokuto’s heart races. The blood thunders through his head and drowns out every other sound, every other thought.  _ It worked. _

The unicorn clops its way toward the fairy rings. Their long, glittery eyelashes flutter. Their loose mane shifting and wafting through the air. They nose the fairy rings, the mushrooms giving shrill giggles at the unicorn’s sniffing. Bokuto doesn’t blink. His muscles scream with tension and he’s terrified that at any moment he’ll start to tremble.

The unicorn steps into the largest ring, pads down the grass with their hooves, then lies in the center. Relaxes with a great sigh.

Bokuto can hardly believe it. Can hardly  _ breathe _ . He has to act now. He knows the charm to summon nets and binding ropes. The unicorn’s back is turned to him, he can aim from here. He has the perfect shot. The perfect moment. The perfect opportunity., Right here, sitting pretty in a faked fairy ring. 

Bokuto hesitates. 

There’s something innocent about the unicorn. Unsuspecting. He feels as though to reach for his wand would violate something. Break a sacred, unwritten rule. As though Bokuto lose something vital and precious. Something he can’t be without. 

_ Everyone’s watching _ , Bokuto thinks again.  _ Keiji is watching. Tetsurou is watching _ . 

Tentative fingers twitch for his wand, an overwhelming sense of wrongness still holds him back. Susan huffs in her sleep, readjusting against his cheek. 

_ The perfect moment _ . 

There’s a crash. The snap of branches, the smashing and crushing of bushes, twigs, and underbrush. Bokuto leaps in surprise and the unicorn bolts, flees, becomes a silver streak threading through the trees.

“No!” Bokuto gasps, stiff legs struggling to get him to his feet. He’s shrivelling, his heart heavy and sinking and hopeless. His legs are wobbling, his joints are too rigid to stand. His chance. His  _ moment _ . Gone. Mist melts away as the unicorn sprints through it, leaving some semblance of a trail.

“Wait! Come back--” Bokuto says, hauling himself up on a tree branch. His legs are in agony as he pulls himself into a weak jog. All that’s left of the unicorn is a burned shadow in his vision, but he pretends it’s not. He pretends he has a chance. Has his moment, he has to--

He makes a few, staggering steps before a pained voice cries out. 

“ _ I’m sorry. _ ” 

Bokuto stops. Every nerve in his body taut and afraid. He feels his heart hammering so harshly it feels unnatural. He flips around, willing himself not to panic. 

Broken through the tangle of trees, his golden champion robes filthy and smeared with dirt, a deep gash in his cheek oozing, his bloodshot eyes staring at Bokuto, hauntingly wide and fearful. 

“ _ I’m sorry _ ,” Oikawa says again, this time ragged like a plea. 

“It’s okay,” Bokuto says on reflex.  

“No,” Oikawa chokes and he’s  _ sobbing _ . Tears mingling with snot and sweat and Oikawa clutches his face messily. “No. Not after--  _ No _ \--” 

Oikawa falls to his knees, shoulders heaving. His breath is rasping and he spits blood. Bokuto rushes forward, crouches beside him. His hands hover over Oikawa, not sure if touching him would do him more harm than good while he’s… like  _ this _ . 

“There’s other unicorns,” Bokuto says hesitantly, though he somehow knows that’s not what Oikawa is talking about. He wants to vomit, but instead says, “It’s okay, I forgive you I--” 

“ _ NO! _ ” Oikawa shoves Bokuto off him. Susan squeaks, sharp little nails digging into Bokuto’s shoulder. “No, stay away!” 

“Oika--- Tooru,” Bokuto stammers, keeping his distance. Hands raised in surrender. “What’s-- what’s wrong?” 

Oikawa looks at him, eyes blank and unseeing. 

Bokuto shivers with the unnatural cold layering upon them. His cheeks are stinging harsh red, his nose a frozen nub. The sun is almost completely blotted out by the thickening fog and makes the forest blue and dull like dusk. Bokuto’s quaking is muted, as if the heaviness of the atmosphere is a physical weight on his skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa whispers again, barely audible. 

And then, a deep, rattling breath. A breath that shakes the dense air. A breath that steals more than oxygen and gives nothing in return. Suction. Darkness.  _ Misery _ . 

Bokuto turns and it feels like it’s in slow motion. The dementor looms over him, impossibly tall, impossibly black. Its scabbed, molting grey hands reach out. Its long fingers gnarled and ready to curl around Bokuto’s throat. 

“Stay behind me!” Bokuto yells, and it sounds warped, as if a funhouse mirror met the sound of his voice. He grips Oikawa in place behind him. Oikawa weeps into his champion robes, clings to the golden fabric until Bokuto can feel them start to rip. 

Bokuto’s vision is blurring, but he can feel more dementors gliding toward them, stark pillars of darkness in his vision. The closest dementor stoops. Its hood black as a starless night, a void not even souls can escape from. Its shuddering rattle shakes Bokuto to the bone. Shakes every particle of him until his thoughts are lost, all blending into a roaring wash of white noise, his body going numb-- 

All of Bokuto’s  _ worsts  _ are flooding back to him. He’s huddled under a tapestry on a banister with old tears stuck to his cheeks as he tries to sleep using freshly bought robes as blankets and his blue-and-bronze tie cast aside. He’s curled in ball, under his covers in his bedroom while his parents’ screams punch through the night and he winces at every new insult they sling at each other. Akaashi is weeping, cradling a feathery, lifeless body and Bokuto is bare of comfort to give. Kuroo is dull-eyed and expressionless as he announces his father died drunk, spiralling off a highway in some muggle town he’s never heard of. It’s last week in Study Hall, and Bokuto can hear the whispers and how his name is smeared with disdain and disbelief with no one to defend him,.

Bokuto has never drowned, but he imagines this is what it is like. All consuming, penetrating every inch of him, weighing his flesh down. The cold seeping into him, everything good and gentle and  _ happy--  _ shrinking down,  _ down  _ to a compact core. A burning, pin-prick point, like a resilient star in his throat. A star that sinks lower into his sternum, lower into his navel, then lower and lower until it’s all but forgotten, buried under ice and darkness and despair...

Oikawa’s hands are purple and fisted in Bokuto’s golden robes. He snivels into Bokuto’s shoulder blade and Bokuto feels his touch like it’s coming from thousands of miles away. 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa whispers, his words sound bent, curved. Hollowed out with sorrow. “I’m so sorry-- I’m so sorry, Keiji--” 

Keiji. Bokuto’s mouth burns with half a kiss. _Keiji_. Rich curls. Intelligent eyes. A rare, _beautiful_ smile. A smile Bokuto first managed to coax from Keiji while tucked together in the corner of the Owlery and Bokuto wanted to bask in its radiance forever. A smile from lips that form sweet words like _always_ and _I’m here_ and _I believe in you_ that fill Bokuto with something vibrant like courage, something miraculous like hope. Lips that met his in brevity. In harshness. In desperation. Lips that owe Bokuto a proper, full kiss. 

Bokuto whips out his wand. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” 

Wisps of silver burst from his wand and the dementor slinks back, hissing and curling inward. Bokuto wraps an arm around Oikawa’s middle, heaves him to his feet, but his patronus isn’t strong enough-- more dementors swarm in on them and his frail, non-corporeal patronus dissipates. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” 

First year Kuroo rips back the tapestry Bokuto is hiding under, looking part confused and part furious as he scolds, “ _ You can’t keep sleeping out here because you’re too stubborn to ask for help, Kou! _ ” Kuroo dozing to sleep with his head in Bokuto’s lap as Bokuto runs his fingers through that dark hair, trying to figure how it maintains that unruly shape. Kuroo’s resigned expression as Bokuto drags along fresh-faced Akaashi to their first illegal exploration of Hogsmeade because, “ _ Tetsu, I promised I’d show him something cool! Please? _ ”

His patronus is stronger this time, still without real form or shape, but the dementors flinch at it’s presence and Bokuto a few more seconds to drag Oikawa up. Let Oikawa slump over on Bokuto’s shoulders. Susan makes a noise of protest at the intrusion, smacking her lips sleepily. 

His patronus fails again. Bokuto gasps under the weight of Oikawa and the dementors’ crushing presence. He raises his wand. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” 

Kuroo and Akaashi exchanging similar, exasperated looks as Bokuto fills with laughter. Kuroo making a bubble beard and doing a terrible impression of Headmaster Nekomata in the Prefects bathroom Akaashi had reluctantly given them the password to. Akaashi sneaking Bokuto sandwiches and glasses of iced tea while he slaves through detention. Kuroo passed out on Bokuto’s bed after a fight, unable to stay away long enough for him to come back to their dormitory and make amends.

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” 

Keiji. Keiji with his guard down, eyes soft and open and sure. Hands warm entwined with Bokuto’s. Skin smooth and right against Bokuto’s.  _ Keiji _ . 

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” 

The silver wisps gather, collide in a desperate attempt to take form, but it’s still not enough. Even the happiest memories can’t overcome a lack of practice. His patronus is too feeble, too flimsy as it’s swallowed up in the dementors’ growing darkness. 

“Expecto-- Expecto--” he rasps. His wand slick with clammy sweat. “Expe--”  
Bokuto feels like he’s shrinking. Oikawa is a deadweight on top of him, and he staggers. His falls to his knees, clutches onto Oikawa in some vain attempt to shield him. 

“Expect--” he pants, the forest and darkness and faces of his friends swirling in his vision, disappearing. “Expect-- Exp--”  

Light. A wash of warmth. A bloom of brilliance. Gentle, pulsing waves crash into dementors, send them reeling backward. 

A light-- not from Bokuto’s wand-- but from his shoulder. Bokuto turns, barely able to squint through the intensity of the brightness and almost chokes

Susan, the small white Pygmy Puff, leaps from him. Her form is completely consumed in the glow, her body fluid and expanding. Her stubby legs lengthen. Her chubby body becomes lean and elegant. She grows a slender neck, sprouts a golden tail, unfurls a shimmering mane, and spears out a glistening, golden horn--

A unicorn stands between Bokuto and the horde of dementors. Proud and powerful, unlike anything Bokuto has ever seen. The light comes from her, ebbing off her in waves that sends the dementors fleeing. Their cloaks incinerate, blasted into flakes of dust and ash. What’s left of their husk-like bodies shrivel, their mouths open and empty, faces eyeless. Their grey, mutilated skin concaves until they are tight, fist-sized balls and burst into ashy piles. Obliterated with a lingering, high-pitched cry. 

Bokuto stares on, wonderstruck. 

The unicorn’s light fades until Bokuto no longer has to squint to see her. The mist has gone, blue sky and golden sun showering down upon them. The dullness has lifted, bright autumn leaves now vivid, the trees healthy browns, still-green mossy earth --The November chill is blissful compared to the frostiness of a dementor horde and Bokuto breathes for what feels like the first time since his name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire.  _ Safe _ . 

The unicorn turns to him. She’s smaller than the first. Her white coat is dappled in gold, not yet outgrown her foal coat. Still, a starlight shine encases her body, her golden mane floats in non-existent wind. She blinks at him, waiting. 

She has the Pygmy Puff’s doe-like eyes. Bokuto gapes at her and she lets out a huff in the Pygmy Puff’s same, irritated way but-- but it couldn’t-- 

“S _ -Susan? _ ” Bokuto stammers. 

The unicorn brightens, bounds over excitedly. She licks the side of Bokuto’s face with those gross kisses Bokuto said he hated. 

“Susan!” he cries, throwing his arms around her neck. His laugh is giddy with relief, tears spring to his eyes. 

Susan the Unicorn lifts her head and pulls Bokuto to his feet. He hugs her tightly, letting her strength and magic seep into him. Healing his torn muscles, soothing away the tremor in his bones, easing the lingering cool in his flesh. 

“You naughty horse!” he scolds, booping her nose with no real frustration. “It was you the whole time?!” 

Susan nickers in amusement and Bokuto pulls her back into a hug, face pressed to her muzzle, too exhausted even to sob. 

“I suppose Susan isn’t exactly a majestic kind of name,” Bokuto says, drawing back and dabbing tears from his eyes. “Do you want another?” 

Susan shakes out her mane, nudging the side of his cheek with her snout. Bokuto wheezes out throaty laughter. 

“Alright, we’ll keep it,” he agrees. 

There’s a groan, low and groggy. 

“Oikawa,” Bokuto remembers, stumbling to the other champion’s side.

Oikawa is still deathly pale. The gash in his cheek is crusted over with frozen blood and his lips a ghostly blue. His breathing is weak, barely a sliver of breath passing in and out.

Bokuto looks to the unicorn desperately. “Susan?” 

She clops forward, stooping her head and pricking Oikawa’s chest with her horn. Just over his heart. 

Oikawa convulses, knees tucking to his chest, rolling onto his side. He gulps in air greedily. His color returns, the frosted blood melts away, and his sliced cheek zips itself shut. 

Bokuto waits until his breath evens out and the tension in his muscles softens. He doesn’t touch him, but risks a hesitant, “You alright?” 

Oikawa jerks, looking at him in alarm. His amber eyes are clear, alert. He struggles to pull himself into a sitting position, but his muscles are still seized and weak. 

“Easy,” Bokuto says, putting a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “You’re still recovering.”  

“What--what happened?” Oikawa asks, eyes darting about the forest. He starts as his gaze lands on the unicorn. “What did-- what did you  _ do  _ to me?” 

Susan snorts, affronted. Bokuto pats her snout. 

“It was the dementors,” Bokuto says, shrugging off his robes and folding them into a neat square. “Here.” 

Oikawa lifts his head and lets Bokuto tuck the makeshift pillow under him. Oikawa’s brows are lopsided in confusion. 

“Dementors?” he repeats.  

Bokuto nods. At last, his trembling dies down. He wipes off his sweat-slippery wand and tucks it in his jeans. The tiny gesture somehow makes him feel assured. Human. 

Oikawa is staring at him, once again pale. 

“What?” Bokuto asks. “What is it?” 

“The outline,” Oikawa says, soft. As if he’s afraid they’ll be overheard.

Bokuto tilts his head to the side curiously and Oikawa rolls his eyes. 

“The outline of the Task? The one you and your friends nicked from somewhere and passed around like idiots?” Oikawa reminds. 

“Oh,” Bokuto says, not sure why Oikawa is bringing it up. He gives Susan a sideways glance. “Uh. What about it?” 

Oikawa gives him a withering look. 

“Do  _ you  _ remember reading anything about dementors in the outline?” Oikawa asks, managing to sound scathing even as he lies limp and mostly useless on the forest floor. “Because I sure as hell didn’t.” 

Bokuto feels dread pool low in his stomach. “No-- No I don’t think it mentioned that.” 

Oikawa chews on the inside of his cheek--  _ Like Keiji _ , Bokuto thinks-- and Bokuto isn’t used to having Oikawa look at him with concern. Almost sympathy. 

“You… You don’t think that…” Bokuto begins, not wanting to say it out loud. 

Oikawa can’t refrain from rolling his eyes again. 

“Over a hundred dementors don’t just wander onto school grounds by accident,” he says darkly. “The school has protective enchantments. Armed spells. Nekomata especially hates the things. He’d never let them just waltz in.” 

Oikawa shuffles into a more comfortable position, wincing as he does. Bokuto churns with new horror. His mind is whirling. Whoever was after him was even more powerful than he imagined. Forcing his name out of the Goblet of Fire was one thing, but smuggling a horde of dementors onto Hogwarts grounds? Bokuto can’t fathom it. 

Susan snorts, nibbling his earlobe as if she can sense his distress. He strokes her flank absentmindedly, chewing the nails on his other hand. 

Oikawa pushes himself off the ground, his teeth and his joints creaking. He unsteadily gets himself sitting upright, though Bokuto can see the strength quickly sapping out of him. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, reaching out a hand. “Let me carry you back to the tent. Takeda will have to patched up in no time.” 

Oikawa winces. “It’s-- fine. I’m fine.” 

He takes deep, steadying breaths and it’s Bokuto’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure you are,” he says. “Susan?” 

Susan huffs grumpily, but lowers. Oikawa to collapses onto her back, basks in her healing glow. Oikawa sighs in content. 

“Good girl,” Bokuto says, kissing the length of Susan’s snout. “Come on.” 

Oikawa cracks one eye open, squinting at Bokuto. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Bokuto says, flourishing his wand.  

He aims for the now-clear sky. Golden fireworks roar to life above them and Bokuto thinks it looks like victory. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People who regularly leave comments are why multi-chap fics exist tbh, thank you so much and please let me know what you think!! Your feedback makes my day<3
> 
> ((hmu at cutiekeiji on tumblr))

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats* buckle up kids, i'm trying something new!! 
> 
> ((it should be noted i do plan on giving oikawa a redemption arc don't fret))
> 
> thanks for reading!! feedback is HUGELY appreciated<3


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